Facade
by LeoBeLike
Summary: Since childhood, Zoro Roronoa has been striving to conquer the Battle Royale, determined to fulfill a promise. Since childhood, he's done it alone. But now, he finds himself the subject of a rather captivated reporter. Or is it Zoro who's been captivated instead...? [ Story inspired by the famous film, BloodSport ]
1. Departure

► _Memories - _The Midnight (2016)

* * *

_**November 2, 1988. Thursday. 7:43 a.m**. _

He would remember his last day in the East Blue as being a relentlessly humid one. The past few days it had only been cold, windy. Obvious considering the month of November had just begun. But despite the weather having been an abnormally cold temperature, it definitely hadn't stopped Zoro from building up more of his strength in what he knew would be his final week.

Every early morning, he had set off jogging along the sidewalk, running a few blocks, feeling the cold, crisp air against his face. The frigid breeze against his cheeks only motivated him to jog a little faster, farther, knowing that if he did so, his body would get warmer and the cold would no longer be a bother.

He had planned to do this exercise as well that very morning, but it was just his luck that it was heavily raining on the day of his departure.

Zoro supposed he technically still had to run, but in a completely different manner. Rather than peacefully and steadily jogging on a sunny, but cold day, he instead would have to sprint through heavy rain in order to get to his city's gym in his best efforts to not get _completely _soaked at least.

He was annoyed, but he wasn't going to let the crappy weather set his day or his trip back. _Hell no._

He was standing in his apartment building's lobby, looking through the glass entrance doors and seeing exactly just how hard the rain was falling. He could hear it too, the sound of the strong _pitter-patter _of the drops hitting the cement sidewalk filling his ears.

It wasn't raining too hard, not to the point where it was absolutely pouring, but it was enough that Zoro knew that even if he ran as fast as he could, he would nonetheless appear at the gym unsatisfyingly damp.

He had no umbrella, which was typical to anyone who knew Zoro. He was the type of person that didn't own or purchase most trivial items like an umbrella, despite complaining of the adverse outcomes. He also had no car, so he had no other option _but_ to go by foot.

_So might as well just suck it up, _he thought.

It wasn't difficult to. After all, he was entirely used to bearing with stupid shit, simply because it was easier, whether that be a bit of rain or his one measly television channel that could barely get through an episode of _Golden Girls_ (considering that was all that damn channel even showed) without needing several adjustments of his finicky television antenna.

There was close to no hope of him viewing an actual weather forecast.

And so, preparing himself in the limited way that he could, Zoro simply lifted the hood to the grey sweatshirt he wore over his head and held his duffel bag close to his chest, in an attempt to use his body as a barricade.

The receptionist was watching him, puzzled, from over the top of his newspaper at the reception desk, most likely wondering why Zoro looked as though he was preparing to run a marathon. But after a few seconds, he only shrugged and resumed his reading.

Zoro paid him no mind, not liking to talk to the old bastard anyway, and he certainly wasn't going to explain.

As he pushed through those doors and set off, the cold was instant and bracing.

The rain drops weren't seeping through his clothes just yet, but he certainly felt the quiet taps as they hit.

He ran through the familiar, but boring streets. This was home, but there was nothing here that would help him move forward. Not anymore. None of these houses, none of these stores. Not even the people.

As he ran, he was only looking slightly ahead, enough so that he wouldn't hit anybody or anything in front of him. His vision was mostly pointed downward towards his feet, the splash of his sneakers as he ran through puddles, but Zoro hardly cared.

In fact, he felt a small smile come onto his face, despite the water finally beginning to seep into his shoes and drip down his forehead. He _didn't _care.

In his peripheral, he caught familiar glimpses of places he knew well, places that had defined his life here, but would soon be replaced, no doubt, by unknown scenery in a new city.

The familiar dull green sign of the Skypiea supermarket, its letters spelled out in that vine-like design. The laundromat with its one flickering fluorescent in the back corner that no one had attended to in months. The stacked towers of balconies, each crowned with a clunky satellite dish, as if the residents outside were trying to contact aliens through their cigarettes.

It wasn't the nicest of neighborhoods, but it was what he was used to. He'd lived here long enough that he knew his way around, for the most part. The streets and buildings usually stayed the same for him, as they thankfully were that rainy day, Zoro knowing that the gym was just up ahead and around the corner.

Just had to pass a few more apartments.

Looking ahead now, he spotted the familiar stop sign stained with a small amount of purple graffiti, and he knew he was almost there.

His feet sloshed into a few more puddles, and then the gym's entrance loomed above him, the man grateful for the little awning that stretched out over the door.

He ducked under, chest heaving from his run, and walked towards the front door, swinging it open.

The jingling of the bells attached to the door and then the warm air from the gym instantly hit him, a definite contrast to the feeling of the cold sheets of rain outside. He could feel his wet clothes uncomfortably sticking to his skin, so he walked quickly to the counter. The faster he could sign in, the faster he could change his clothes.

With some amount of dread, Zoro immediately recognized the gym employee at the counter, a woman named Baby, thanks to her unwelcome introduction just a few weeks back when she had first begun working there. He knew he was a regular, but it didn't mean he wanted to get chummy with the staff.

And yet, every time Zoro signed in, she had attempted to strike up small conversation, much to Zoro's disdain. He was far from a talkative person to begin with.

He always gave her terse responses, hoping to get her off his case. But unfortunately, she'd been able to pry too much personal information from him, namely that he was leaving town. She just didn't know where he was going.

Now, having seen him, Baby already had the clipboard with the sign-in sheet propped on the counter, ready for him, along with a cheeky smile, her thick mane of black hair flipped and combed stylishly over to one side of her head, a lacy headband nestled within her curls. Zoro never knew who the hell she was trying to impress with that look.

"Somehow I knew you'd still come," the woman commented with a hint of laughter as her dark eyes flicked over his appearance.

"What?" Zoro mumbled, not even meeting her eye as he grabbed up the provided pen and scribbled his signature on the sheet.

"The rain. It's coming down like bullets," she clarified, as if it was obvious, waiting for him to finish before she swiveled the clipboard back to its original position. "But shouldn't you be out of town already?"

He gave her a sidelong glance, but did manage a subtle upturn of lips in return.

"In a couple hours," was his only response.

He regarded her for just a few more seconds, already angling himself towards the door to the locker rooms. He had nothing more to say to her, nor did he feel like he owed her a goodbye of any sort. They didn't even know each other.

Baby seemed to acknowledge this fact too, nodding but saying nothing in return.

But the look on her face was pensive, red fingernails starting up a steady tapping that echoed the pelting rain outside.

Finally, she leaned forward and rested her elbow on the flat surface of the counter, a small pout making its way onto her painted lips.

"When are you coming back?" she called out.

Zoro had already begun walking away, but nonetheless, he spared her one last glance, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Who knows?" he replied.

* * *

The locker room was quiet when he entered, nothing but the pattering of a shower running near the toilet stalls and the high-pitched sound of a zipper echoing in the space, telling him he wasn't completely alone.

Setting his duffel bag on an available bench, Zoro swiftly removed his stuffy hoodie and shirt and shoved it into his bag. He took out a grey muscle shirt and slid it on before doing the same with his sweatpants.

It was eight in the morning.

Thankfully, not many people were at the gym during this hour, most already at work, leaving Zoro relieved, only two other men changing in their own spaces and paying him no mind. They both looked the treadmill type anyway, with shorts far _too_ short to be comfortable, and sweatbands snapped around their heads, so he knew he'd probably have the yoga room for himself to meditate. Which he definitely needed today.

Finished changing, he shoved his bag in his locker, only taking with him his water bottle and towel, and walked out of the men's locker room to head to the yoga room.

Gold's Gym was a smaller, local gym, far less popular than the newer ones downtown with slightly better equipment and prices.

Zoro knew the types of employees they had in those joints and frankly, he didn't want to associate himself with any of them. They were far, _far _more nosy than Baby. He didn't want some random person breathing down his neck with peppy motivation and exaggerated smiles with their annoying neon-colored headbands. No thanks.

For the most part, the staff here at Gold's Gym left him alone and that was what Zoro appreciated and needed.

Thus, he was able to slink through the pastel pink halls unnoticed until he approached the yoga room which was indeed empty when he stole a glance through the door's window.

Another glance at the class sheet posted on the bulletin board beside the door told him he had three hours until the room would be full of middle-aged women bending themselves into all sorts of freaky positions, so he strode in without qualms.

Not wanting to sit directly in front of the many mirrors that surrounded the room, where his reflection would assault him at every turn, he grabbed one of the gym's provided floor mats and spread it in the center.

Knees hitting the mat, Zoro kneeled. He slowly rested his palms on his thighs, took a deep breath and closed his eyes, clearing his mind.

Over the course of the past year, he'd been coming to the gym with a completely different mindset than he'd had before.

In the beginning, when he'd come to work out, he'd done so at his own pace, without having a specific goal in mind.

Still, that hadn't meant he'd slacked off. He'd still trained with everything he had.

Every time he'd come to train, he'd noted his improvement in strength, remembering the measly amount he'd been able to lift initially, comparing his current records to the pathetic ones of his younger days.

He recalled his somewhat scrawny self walking into this gym way back when, foolishly intending to lift four-hundred pound weights, but having to downgrade to undesired fifties at the pace of ten reps.

But his will to get stronger had propelled him and soon enough, over the years, he'd grown to be a larger and broader man, able to finally lift up to two-hundred pound weights, not at just ten reps, but at forty, fifty, sixty…

He hadn't only come to lift heavy objects though. Hell no. There was a point to all that.

Away from the gym, whether in his own apartment or in a secluded area away from the city, he'd trained in what he loved most.

Swordsmanship.

Maybe at the gym, he hefted countless pieces of metal, the heavier the better.

But in the forest, all he needed were three, three whose weight barely compared to the bars he pressed there, but yet held the _most_ significant amount in their importance.

Even here, in this empty yoga room that was so often filled with high-tempo aerobics music, on a mat that felt as far from the natural feel of dirt and grass as one could get, he could transport himself to where he felt _most_ comfortable.

Breathing in slowly, Zoro let out a low breath, remembering the sensations of holding his swords, a tactic that always immediately calmed his nerves, steadied his heartbeat, and pushed any stress far away. He could taste the sharp phantom tang of leather from the sword's hilt in his mouth. He could imagine that smell of sweat and steel filling his nostrils. The whistle of the wind brushing through his ears as he slashed his swords through the night air.

Countless hours, days, weeks, he trained alone, learning new techniques, quickening his movements. He thought of every training method he could, and it didn't matter if it was physically impossible. Nothing was impossible, he knew. Not if he put his mind to it.

It was his manner of doing shit. There was no one around to tell him no.

Well, there had been one someone who _might've_.

But not anymore.

Now, he was completely on his own, filling this closed room with the sights and sounds of the open forest that he missed so much, his inspiration and his drive.

Slowly, Zoro shifted his legs, imagining, not the squeaky slide of the mats beneath him, but the smooth tickling of grass as he extended limbs outward into a V shape, just short of a sideways split.

He straightened his back.

Touching the tips of his index fingers and thumbs together, his hands formed a diamond, his other fingers spread out, and he stretched his arms out in front of him, holding the stance and breathing in deeply.

The whirring fan of the room's air conditioning unit became a soft breeze rustling through tree leaves.

The sounds of traffic outside grew distant.

He stretched again. Once, twice, three times, before changing positions, shifting the pull to his other side, where he kept his swords belted, and they were there, weren't they. He could stand up and draw one at a moment's notice, surely.

Because this wasn't some shitty gym in the middle of a busy city. This was his space, _their _space.  
Nothing could disturb him here, not even his memories.

* * *

**_November 2nd, 1988. Thursday. 9:14 a.m. North Blue. _**

Loosening his tie with his free hand, the man carefully his cup of coffee in his other before opening the door to the building with ease and striding inside with long steps.

His hair was particularly wavy that day, not having had enough time to properly fix his hair or even his entire appearance that morning due to missing his alarm, something he didn't usually do.

Today was just a very important day.

The strands of his bangs that were set to cover his right eye fell toward his left instead, so he blew them away with a puff of air in frustration.

Thankfully, the elevator doors were just up ahead past the entrance, as he quickly pressed the button with the arrow pointing up, tapping his foot impatiently as seconds passed by and neither of the two offered doors showed signs of opening.

He let out a sigh.

"_C'mon..." _he groaned, shaking his wrist so that the sleeve of his shirt would fall to reveal his watch.

He looked down at the time, glasses slipping to the tip of his nose, his hand automatically darting up to push them back into place as quickly as he used to, back when his desk had been a stovetop, and a pair of glasses becoming part of his culinary projects was certainly not acceptable.

That was some time ago now.

He'd traded whisks and knives for a keyboard and a great story.

But then again, he'd always been a fan of stories, even if he was the only one to believe in them.

Or at least, he told himself that in the moments he longed for the heat and chaos of the kitchen...

"Sanji!"

Suddenly, a soft, cheery voice called out from behind him, snapping him from his thoughts.

Instantly recognizing its owner, Sanji turned into a pile of putty, swirling around dramatically to face the woman approaching him.

"Vivi! You look absolutely captivating on this fine morning," he swooned, reaching for her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it, a motion most women, let alone coworkers, would find peculiar, but Vivi only smiled brightly and allowed him, this being normal for her after knowing Sanji for some time now.

A green and pink plaid jacket decorated her torso, along with a matching skirt and green tights. The turtleneck she had underneath completed her look.

She also knew how keen he was on giving women compliments.

"Why, thank you. You, on the other hand, look as though you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," she commented in return with a giggle, covering her mouth with her palm.

The elevator suddenly opened with a _ding._

The two stepped in, pressing the button for the twelfth floor.

Sanji chuckled.

"Ah yes, I woke up rather late this morning," he said shyly, ruffling his small curls in an attempt to tidy himself.

Faint elevator music filled the small space.

"I see," Vivi hummed. "Today _is_ the day Robin tells you her verdict on the article you've been wanting, after all," she noted casually, considering there hadn't been a day gone by without Sanji reminding her.

"The very one. I'm a nervous wreck. Even so, no matter what happens, I could never be mad at my lovely Robin! She is never wrong!" he declared with a high-pitched voice, slapping a hand to his heart and clenching his chest.

Robin Nico, CEO of the _New World Times_, was known to be a tolerable woman by her employees. She was rather quiet, giving smooth orders which were easily followed without question. Granted, she did not have a frightening or intimidating appearance whatsoever, but her wickedly charming smile and graceful hand movements were enough to send chills down people's spines.

Sanji referred to it as a chill of _love. _

"I'm sure you'll get it! You're so hardworking, Sanji. You deserve it," Vivi cheered him on, swinging her tote bag slightly in her small excitement.

"Thank you_, mademoiselle." _He bowed towards her with a hand to his middle.

With a last _ding, _the pair finally reached their floor, the elevator doors opening and revealing the typical commotion of their workspace.

The _click-clack _of typing on keyboards, the sound of the copying machine printing multiple pages for upcoming articles, the chatter of people on the telephone in search of valid evidence filled their ears.

With a thumbs-up and a broad smile sent to Sanji, Vivi was off towards her own cubicle and Sanji to his.

In his haste to sit, Sanji practically threw his briefcase over the surface of his desk, unknowingly knocking over a picture frame he had sitting near his massive computer. He then pulled out his wheeled chair, swiftly shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over the backrest.

Hearing the racket, Galdino glanced up from his work across the aisle, blinking over at the blond behind his glasses.

"Sanji, _before _you take a seat, Ms. Nico would like to have a word with you in her office. She's expecting you," the middle-aged man told the blond, forcing Sanji to look up at him in what had to be the first time since they started working together.

Sanji's eyes widened as he glanced down the aisle towards Robin's office, then back to Galdino.

He sent the man a grateful nod and then nervously walked over to her office window, looking inside to see she was on her computer, not noticing him yet.

Face to face with her door, he let the black font of her name imprint itself in his eyes before lifting his hand and knocking softly, letting himself inside.

"Ms. Nico, you were looking for me?" he asked as he shut the door.

Having heard the knock, Robin looked away from her computer and waited for Sanji to approach her.

"Yes, Sanji. Come in, take a seat," she said calmly, extending her arm to gesture to the seats placed in front of her desk.

And so he did, the squeak of the chair as he sat making him wince with even more nervousness.

Robin quietly positioned herself away from her computer and scooted forward, resting her elbows on her desk, shooting Sanji a secretive smile.

"As I'm sure you know," she began. "Starting tomorrow night, the Battle Royale will take place_." _

The words sent Sanji ablaze inside.

"Y-Yes, I am familiar with that fact." He tried to sound confident, but he cursed himself for letting himself stutter.

"I've come to a very _clear _understanding that your desire is to be in charge of this particular article, one that has been very difficult for this company to properly obtain," she stated, now leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms.

"That is tr-"

"How can I possibly know that you will be successful with infiltrating, when no other reporter has?" she questioned, not hesitating to cut him off as she eyed him, hoping to receive a good answer.

Once more lifting his glasses to the bridge of his nose, Sanji closed his eyes and stood up, hands at his sides, his response already prepared.

"I assure you, I have my ways of entering and getting a story completely planned out," he blurted out with confidence. "This may sound brash, I know. But Ms. Nico…"

He swallowed.

"For months, I've traveled from here to Water 7, in preparation for tomorrow, getting to know the city, its areas. And as I was there, I heard many, _many _details involving the tournament, the type of people competing, its location," he rambled, his heart racing.

He placed his palms on her desk and looked her in the eyes with a poised fondness.

"Please give me this chance," he pleaded. "I _won't _fail you."

Robin still hadn't stood up with him, and Sanji couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign.

A pregnant pause filled the room as Robin sat in thought.

"Very well," she finally said after that agonizing silence, slowly raising herself from her seat as well.

If Sanji's heart hadn't fallen out of his chest already, it sure had at that moment.

"I trust your abilities, Sanji. I've been impressed with previous articles you've developed, and I hope this one will be the same," she complimented, though a frightening tone laced through her words.

"However," Robin continued. "If this turns out to be a failure, I will not let you go unscathed. This is an article many have tried publishing. I do not wish to be fooled, trusting your words," she threatened smoothly.

"You won't be, my lovely," he assured, bowing with any hope of persuading her.

"Alright, Sanji," she complied. "I've booked a flight for you to leave at twelve thirty this afternoon. Is that too soon?"

"Not at all," he replied with a smirk that crept easily over his features. "I'll be packed and ready in no time at all. I just need to finish up an article for this week and I'll be on my way."

Already he was mentally planning where he'd placed his suitcase...what he would take with him….

"Alright. I expect a victorious return," Robin replied.

She flipped some strands of hair over her shoulder, flashing him one of her wicked, but beautiful smiles, her lips quirking up in a mesmerizing way.

"You're dismissed," was her closing remark.

Bowing formally in reply, Sanji turned on his heel and left her office without another word, shutting her door quietly and letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

_Yes. _

He walked back to his cubicle, locking eyes with Vivi along the way as she sent him a questioning look. He sent her a thumbs-up and a grin in return, just as she'd done earlier.

Watching as she gave him a silent, final, _adorable, _fist pump, Sanji sat back down at his desk and spun himself once in his chair in victory.

But in doing so, he noticed that fallen picture frame he'd unknowingly knocked over earlier, planted facedown on his desk.

He brought himself to a halt, scooted closer to lift the frame, with its well-worn photo, back into place.

There was that damn old man, dressed in his chef whites, his amazingly tall hat and long, curled mustache as familiar to the blond as the prosthetic leg that had given his head several dozen bumps growing up.

Sanji sighed.

He supposed he'd be leaving behind more than just this city, after all.

* * *

Quickly tightening the white cloth wrapped around his right hand, Zoro clenched his fists before positioning himself once more, one leg back, the other forward, and resumed his punches towards the red punching bag in front of him. He could feel the sweat drops crawling down his forehead and back, but he didn't want to waste any time wiping them off.

His meditation finished, he now radiated with energy, nearly two hours having passed, yet he was still willing to keep going, unlike others who would already be on their way home.

The first hour had focused on cardio, then twenty minutes on abdomen, and he was now working on his upper body strength, saving these exercises for last, because it was his upper strength that he relied on most.

Zoro bounced on the balls of his heels, striking the bag twice and then raised his right leg, bending it at the knee. In one quick swing, he struck his leg against the side of the bag, the impact sending it flying into the air before coming back down in an arc that would have smashed into him had he not danced back.

His foot stung satisfyingly as he brought it back down and resumed his previous position, still bouncing slightly before he went in for another flurry of punches.

So it continued, the swordsman tightening his core with those rotating kicks, feeling the burn of his muscles begin to throb almost pleasantly in his arms and chest from his punches.

His stamina was admirable, but he knew his limits, and when his head began to spin a tiny bit with an extra powerful kick, when his heart felt ready to burst from his chest, he finally slowed himself to a stop.

Panting, he dropped his head back to the ceiling, sweat dripping down the sides of his face despite the room not being particularly hot. He grabbed his towel and water container that he had put off to the side, wiped himself off, and downed the water.

As he stood trying to catch his breath, he scanned the room until he found the round clock ticking quietly on the wall.

9:49. Not that early anymore, and yet no one had entered the room to bother him, though he wasn't complaining about that in the slightest.

If it was up to him, he'd have continued, but unfortunately, he had plans, as he did every Friday at eleven. He could probably keep at it for a bit longer, but he knew the person he was due to meet would not appreciate him arriving drenched in sweat. Better shower first.

And so, he pulled the punching bag off its hook and returned it to the side of the room where he'd found it, shuffled from the room and made his way to the locker room to gather his things.

He showered, got back into the clothes he'd come with, finding them now completely dry, and walked towards the counter where Baby no longer sat, having most likely gone on her break.

Scribbling his name on the sheet once again in order to sign out, Zoro left the gym, realizing, as soon as he was out the door, that it would probably be the last time he set foot in that place. At least for a good, long while.

He didn't feel sad though, not really. Because when he returned, he'd no doubt be stronger, and maybe even that dingy place would hold some nostalgic value.

* * *

Adjusting the collar to his frequently worn jean jacket, Zoro spotted Rain Dinners, just south of his apartment, the bar's vibrant purple entrance noticeable even from a few blocks away.

With the rain gone, clouds grayed the sky, a soft breeze thankfully churning the otherwise humid air.

Grabbing the fancy crocodile-shaped doorknob, Zoro stepped inside the bar, promptly noticing it wasn't completely empty but still not entirely full, unsurprising considering it was nearly midday on a Friday.

It didn't take long to find his long-time friend just moments after entering the small bar, fiery orange hair flipping as she turned her head in his direction.

"Zoro!" she called, a smirk already pulling at painted lips.

He resisted the urge to smirk back.

"Yeah, yeah, I see you, no need to scream," he muttered instead, slowly sauntering over, putting on his usual show of reluctance.

Nami was seated at the bar counter as always. It had been their spot for as many times as they'd hung out here. It had grown to be a habit. She had on a dark brown pantsuit with a white button-up underneath. Her long locks were tied up into a ponytail, revealing the big golden hoops she wore in her ears.

Her pumps clacked on the hard floor as she stood up and scooted her chair back.

"Shut up and c'mere," she shot back as he reached her side, laughing as she circled her arms around Zoro's neck in a hug.

"Hey," he replied, actually accepting the hug with minimal eye-rolling, even smiling as he looked her over. "You borrow that suit from Genzo?" he questioned, eyeing her outfit curiously.

Nami scoffed playfully.

"What? I can't dress maturely? Of my own free choice? It's _fashion_, Zoro," she quipped, resting her hand on her hip.

Zoro lifted an eyebrow, fixing her with a deadpan expression that was fully onto her bullshit. The woman much preferred skin-baring tube tops and bottoms that showed off her legs, rarely _choosing_ to wear anything so conservative, even in a professional setting.

He smirked when she finally caved under the pressure of his stare, her own eyes giving a quick roll.

"I just came from work, idiot. I told you I had an important meeting today," she explained, reaching up to flick Zoro's forehead, the swordsman lifting a hand to rub the sore spot with a scowl.

"I guess I should thank you for not getting lost because I have to go back soon," she continued, her expression smug, but her voice laced with disappointment. "It's a bummer. I wanted to take you to the train myself just so I can charge you for gas money."

Zoro had to suppress the urge to flick her back when his friend gave him a cheeky wink, sticking out her tongue to fuel the fire.

Instead, he gave her a little shove towards the bar stools, where he finally took a seat beside her.

"You're the worst," he grumbled over his shoulder, already leaning over the bar to signal the bartender. "Even if you _were_ able to take me, I wouldn't accept. Don't need my debt to you going up any higher."

"As if you can prevent that, with how much of a dumbass you are," she scoffed, though he could hear the teasing smile in her voice.

"Get bent," he muttered, lifting a finger until the bartender finally made his way over. "Glass of rum and a _water_ for the lady," was his order, the swordsman giving an evil chuckle as he watched Nami's mouth gape.

"A _water!?"_ she screeched. "You jerk! Order me a real drink!"

"You have work!" he shot back.

"So? Unlike _some people_, I can handle a bit of day drinking without getting lost in my own city, thank you. For that, your debt just increased five percent!"

Zoro's eyes widened, feeling real fear pierce his heart. _He_ may have been kidding, but Nami? That damn woman didn't know how when it came to money...

"Who knows how much five percent is, knowing you!" he stammered, trying but failing to keep the pleading tone from his voice. "Take it back! I'll pay for your drink."

He watched as she tapped a slender finger to her chin in mock thought. Then she grinned a moment later.

"Mmmm, nope. But you can still pay for my drink~"

He groaned loudly.

"You're a she-devil."

"That I am~"

Another groan followed. Despite Nami being his closest friend, she definitely could be a real bitch sometimes.

"So is it water or…?" cut in the bartender, still hovering close, watching the scene with growing impatience.

Another roll of eyes and Zoro ordered Nami a glass of vodka, their drinks materializing in front of them a short minute later.

He watched as she smirked at him behind the rim of her glass. Despite their squabble, Zoro managed to smirk right back at her.

After a satisfying gulp of alcohol, she set her drink down and gave Zoro a fond smile.

"You know," Nami began. "Nojiko's been wondering why you haven't given her a call."

Zoro internally groaned and averted his eyes, trying his best to avoid Nami's stare, but to no avail. He gave her his typical answer.

"Don't have a telephone."

"You have legs, however. Walk yourself to a payphone and _call her. _It's called 'maintaining a friendship.' You know she'll come down here and kick your ass herself the longer you don't," she said, voice lilting in warning. "And you also know she's even scarier than me."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get to it."

Fuck if he knew when, but he still held a small hope that his response would get Nami off his ass about it_. _He waved her off with that exact thought in mind.

After all, Nami's view of her older sister was a bit different than his, the older woman being far more patient with his bouts of introversion than Nami, who only tried to drag him out for social interaction every time he so much as disappeared for a weekend.

Nami hummed in response, and for a moment, he wondered if she'd express yet more skepticism. But instead, a nostalgic look came over her features.

"Remember when we were kids and you accidentally sliced off her hair?" Nami recalled, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "With _Kuina's _sword."

The memory resurfaced instantly, Zoro letting out a wince.

He remembered a black eye, a bruised abdomen, and his own ten-year-old determination not to cry.

"Shit. It was an accident. How many damn times have we been over this? Besides, I didn't know it was Kuina's sword. I found it in the basement of the dojo. If I'd known, like hell I would have even looked at it," he mumbled, that particular day still a slight bruise to his ego, especially when Nojiko and Nami still teased him about it even now.

"Her and Kuina both gave you a good one. You were such an airhead. Still are," she added, making Zoro roll his eyes yet again, but her smile was still present.

"Oi," he muttered softly. "That's why you wanted to see me? To throw insults?"

Her playful smile shrunk a little, her eyes losing their usual bright flare, softening instead.

"Not this time, no," she mused, studying him for a long moment before she continued. "Jokes and updates aside, I wanted to say goodbye."

Zoro's eyes widened for an instant, not having expected that answer, before they settled into something more serious. He said nothing and let her continue.

"It _is_ your last day here and all," she said. "Who knows when'll be the next time I see you, you oaf."

She gave him a nudge with her elbow.

He supposed it was normal for a friend to want to wish another farewell before a trip, but from the sound of her voice….

It seemed that she didn't think he'd return.

"I'll be back," he said simply, _truthfully_.

Still, she huffed out a sigh, seemingly unconvinced.

"It's not like you're taking a trip to a tropical resort, Zoro. You know where you're going."

"Yeah, Nami, but I'll be back," he assured. "I'm determined."

But when all he received in return was a slight roll of her eyes and a twist of her lips into a pout, he too sighed, turning fully to face her.

"Don't have faith in me?" he asked, raising a brow and smirking.

Nami, however, remained solemn.

"You know it's not that," she murmured in reply. "But you know what type of crap goes on down there. There are stronger people than you out there, believe it or not."

He let out another breath, trying hard not to sound frustrated now.

"I know," he said. "But that's why I've been training. S'not like I'm going in head first. I know what I'm doing and that's why I can tell you that I _will _be back."

"Just because you're determined doesn't mean that it will happen," she argued back, pursing lips and narrowing eyes. "It's not that I don't believe in you, Zoro. I know what you're capable of, but I'm just being realistic and thinking that _anything_ could happen. The universe doesn't go by what _you_ say."

"I'm going to prove the universe wrong."

"You're a pain in the ass."

"A pain you've stuck with for the past fifteen years."

"Whatever." Nami rubbed her temples. "I should have known there was no getting through to you."

Wanting to enjoy the time she had left with him, she changed the subject once more into a more uplifting one, the two thankfully losing themselves in the newfound conversation.

And so time passed, neither of them realizing, until one glass of rum turned to several, and Nami had refreshed herself with a few drinks that were certainly _not_ water. For all their bickering, it was easy to talk for far longer than planned.

Lifting the sleeve to her button-up, Nami eventually checked the time on her watch, regret, and maybe a tinge of sadness, touching her features.

"Damn, I gotta get going," she said quietly.

She let out a sigh and stood up, picking up her purse and running hands over her shirt and jacket.

Zoro also stood, watching silently as she fixed herself.

In those few seconds, he debated if he should say something. Many statements and sentences went through his head, until the one that he felt was right appeared, quickly spilling out of his mouth as it did.

"I'll be fine, Nami," he murmured. "I don't plan on dying out there. I have something I need to do."

She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes, processing his words.

He had spoken softly, something he rarely did, but maybe he'd done it to get through to her, dammit. He was serious about this. And he believed his words.

"You'd better not. I'll kill you if you do," she eventually replied, letting out a soft laugh that wasn't entirely happy but certainly a bit more trusting.

Stepping forward, she rested a hand on each of his shoulders, gripping them firmly, but not painfully.

And she _really_ looked at him.

She searched his eyes, as if hoping to find some type of rationality before she left, but they remained slightly narrow, his almost golden irises revealing a small glint to them as if proving his determination.

In a flash, she pulled him in for a _real _embrace, not a brief one, not a casual one. She held him tightly, tight enough that Zoro could feel her try and control shuddering breaths, heard the slight sniffle close to his ear.

He sighed and lifted arms to her waist to hug her back, loosely, but enough to let her know he was there. He would always be there. Even if he was off being as damn reckless as she seemed to think he was.

The embrace lasted another few seconds. Then she released him as she laughed once more, almost sounding embarrassed, but her smile was bright.

"I hate you, you bastard," she teased, wiping at her eyes. "Remember, you have a debt to pay off that I'm expecting to have paid back _completely. _And don't forget Nojiko's call. She's waiting for it."

"I'll call her, dammit. Soon enough," he assured halfheartedly.

"You better. Good luck, Zoro."

And with that, she crossed the bar and strode out the door, Zoro watching as she walked past the window and then out of sight.

He sighed, staring at that window for a long moment before turning back to the two empty glasses still on the counter before him.

She hadn't even paid, and the bartender was now stealing expectant glances at him.

And yet, he rose a hand to his mouth to hide his smirk as he dug in his back pocket for his wallet.

"Damn woman…" he muttered, forking out a few bills.

* * *

**_North Blue. 11:28 a.m_**

Sanji's fingers slid across the sleeves of all his best suits that he had stored in his closet. They stopped when they fell upon an orange, striped collared shirt, pulling it out to see it was paired with a vest, having forgotten he even had this particular set.

He took it off the rack, grabbing a few others before making his way to his dresser to pull out more casual clothes, ones he knew he was going to need.

His suitcase was out and open, placed on top of his bed, already containing various items needed when going on a trip. Or at least, items _he_ deemed necessary, which included all manner of colognes, cufflinks, his best platinum watch. He never knew when he'd need to look his best, so looking his best all the time was ideal.

The very moment Robin had agreed to give him the case, Sanji had known what he had to do. He wasn't a halfwit to take on such an article unprepared. That was very much obvious.

Sanji considered himself a man of tact, expertise. He especially thought so when it came to writing, and now, with his other obsession. This year's Battle Royale_. _

He shut the suitcase with a click, walking over to his work desk to collect and organize the scattered research he'd collected over the past few weeks, notebooks full of it.

His eyes skimmed his random notes, specific details he was able to gather and theories he'd come up with concerning the tournament. It was substantial, but there was still more to learn, and he knew he could certainly feign confusion and innocence if confronted. He could also be quite the aspiring actor when he wanted to.

He grabbed his separate briefcase and inserted his notes and files, also grabbing his audio recorder and placing it into the chest pocket of the suit he now wore.

It was then that Sanji slowed, stopping his hurried steps and taking in what he was actually going to leave, his small condo, a bit disorganized with neglect.

Or at least, his workspace was a bit messy. His clothes and his kitchen were kept in immaculate condition, thank you.

But now it was time.

He was going to witness, in real life, all the stories he'd ever heard about this competition, which honestly sounded too insane to be true, dangerous as it was. This was no ordinary sports tournament, after all. This was a strange location with fierce competitors who seemed eager to fight for blood, not merely the thrill of the game.

Not to mention one _certain _competitor….

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, knowing his main focus should now be getting there on time. Otherwise, there would _be_ no story to witness.

So, Sanji's haste resumed, the blond quickly grasping his suitcase, shoving his briefcase under his arm, and heading to leave his room, but stopping once more when his eyes fixed on his almost forgotten cigarettes.

He'd been itching for a drag.

Swiping the box up, he gripped them in his hand and finally left.

He decided against taking the elevator, a newfound rush suddenly overcoming him as he took the stairs instead, two steps at a time.

Out of the building and onto the North Blue sidewalk, where Sanji flagged down a cab, something which was fairly easy to him, the car soon rolling up next to the curb.

Climbing inside, Sanji rested his things beside him in the back seat.

Then he discreetly pulled out his recorder and pressed the red button, murmuring quietly into the device.

"_Day one, commencing."_

* * *

**_East Blue. 1:30 p.m_**

"_Now boarding passengers headed for the Grand Line. First stop, Foosha City."_

The announcement rung through Zoro's ears, sending a small chill down his spine. That was his train. Yet, he made no motion to get up.

Sitting on one of the train station benches and hunched slightly forward, he rested his elbows on each of his knees, fingers intertwined, his thumbs touching his lips. He was shaking his right leg, both from anticipation and _slight _nervousness. Only slight.

He watched as people got off the train while new ones boarded, all carrying their own bags of luggage.

Zoro glanced down to what he was taking with him. His measly red duffel bag (it did the job as well as a suitcase) and his wooden sword case.

It was a rectangular and worn case, scratched and marked over the years that he'd had it, but it was, nonetheless, in pretty good condition, even if some of the graphic stickers he'd slapped on were now peeling off. The handle to the box creaked slightly every time Zoro held it, but he couldn't find it in himself to replace or repair it, having grown accustomed to the sound, as irritating as it could be at times.

He picked up the case, said creak instantly keening, then grabbed his duffel bag and swung it over one shoulder before standing and walking slowly to the train.

The speakers surrounding the station crackled, the conductor's voice muffling through.

"_Last call for the Grand Line. I repeat. Last call for the Grand Line."_

Speeding up his steps, Zoro made his way to one of the open doors on the side of the train, where he grabbed a handle to heave himself up and began walking down the aisle in search of a seat.

It was indeed a large train, but there were many people already inside, a fact Zoro should have considered before sitting out on the platform for a good five minutes, staring into space. He should have walked in sooner.

He only cursed himself once.

Walking through the train was fairly easy, the aisle far wider than a bus'. Less difficulty maneuvering his shit around.

Eventually, Zoro found a seat, luckily finding one with another vacant seat next to it, meaning he was able to place his bag beside him. Thank fuck for personal space.

His case he placed in his lap where he rested his forearms.

With so many people onboard, the car was pretty lively, multiple voices scattered along its length.

Down the aisle, a mother tried her hardest to soothe the crying baby in her arms, rocking him slowly left and right as she quietly shushed him.

To the right, two punk-looking teenage girls sat laughing obnoxiously to each other, no doubt gossiping about fuck knew what.

Zoro took in the small scene for a moment before slumping his head back against his seat and taking a deep breath.

The doors swiftly closed.

A few minutes passed, until, with a sudden lurch, the train was off, not without its horn blaring before leaving the station.

He tilted his head to the right, gazing out the window and giving his city one last sentimental look.

_See ya, East Blue. I'll be back whenever._


	2. Arrival

► _Eye of the Tiger - _Survivor (1982)

* * *

**_November 2, 1988. Thursday. 1:32 p.m. Leaving East Blue._**

Zoro watched the city roll past him, faster and faster as the train sped from the station, his mind drifting back to the day he'd made the decision to leave the East Blue, now that it was really happening.

It had been early, on an unsuspecting Monday morning. He had been preparing himself to leave Orange Town's small fighting arena, when a man, dressed oddly formal in a black suit and top hat, had halted him and smoothly handed Zoro a sealed envelope, then disappeared as if he'd never been there.

Inside was the invitation to the Battle Royale.

And it was because of that envelope that he was on this train, on the way to an unfamiliar town with the thought of that invitation in his mind, the one that would change his life.

Zoro found himself thinking about the days that were to come. How different they'd be compared to his usual routine here in the East Blue.

He'd be doing what he loved every day from now on.

But he'd be alone. Traveling alone. He wouldn't see any familiar faces, whether it was someone he was close to like Nami, or simply a face he recognized, like the cashier at his local grocery store.

He had no idea what his destination would be like, not really. He knew what the city looked like and what it contained, through pictures and maps. But he knew it would be a completely different experience to actually _be_ there himself.

The thought of having to roam a new unfamiliar city mindlessly, actively looking for each stop he had to take, already fueled him with dread. He usually knew his own hometown like the back of his hand, except on the occasions he still had trouble getting from point A to point B.

Not that he had no sense of direction. It wasn't his fault the buildings seemed to move.

Nami came to mind. He wouldn't have brought her along, but he knew she would have definitely helped him find his way through the city, even if she had her own mean way of doing so. He'd lost track of the number of bumps he'd received on his head, all from Nami's enraged fist after punching him for getting her directions incorrect.

Coming to realize he had been rubbing his palm against the top of his head subconsciously, Zoro immediately stopped and shook his head lightly.

Suddenly, the static from the train's speakers crackled loudly.

_"__Now arriving at Foosha City."_

And true to those words, the train smoothly began slowing down as the engines puffed resoundingly and the brakes screeched, finally pulling the vehicle to a complete halt, dragging Zoro's body slightly forward as it did.

Soon enough, the doors slid open and, once again, people made their way off as others got on. The flow continued for a few minutes until the conductor announced the doors would be closing soon and named their next stop.

Those who had boarded were now comfortable in the spots they'd chosen to sit, the sound of commotion and movement dying down into a calmer lull.

And in that moment, just before the doors closed, a man hopped through into the train, his sandaled feet slapping against the floor, the backpack he had with him doing the same to his back.

"Yosh! I made it just in time!" he declared to seemingly no one, laughing.

No one, however, found it amusing, certainly not Zoro, as he raised an eyebrow at the loud man. He took in the stranger's appearance, instantly noting that he appeared to be about the same age as him, dressed just as casually. He wore a dark red, wrinkled T-shirt along with some dull-colored jeans, the length looking to be a size too big as the fabric pooled slightly at his feet where he wiggled his bare toes.

But what Zoro keenly noticed, atop the black tousled hair the man had, was a straw hat, a strange accessory he had never seen before.

Zoro's initial thought wavered, the swordsman wondering, thanks to that hat, if the kid wasn't younger than him after all. The more he watched him, the more he noticed the guy's big round eyes, giving him an innocent look, his wide grin hinting just a little bit of immaturity. But it was offset by the wicked scar that tore its way across his face, beneath his left eye in a jagged white line.

The swordsman frowned, quirking a brow at the injury, long-healed, or so it appeared, but still an uncommon sight, so brazenly obvious as it was.

It was no shock to Zoro exactly. He'd seen plenty of grisly injuries thanks to his sport, the training circles he normally associated with.

And so he wondered…

Perhaps he wasn't the only one heading to Water 7…

Then, the man glanced Zoro's way.

The toothy grin he wore turned into a closed smile as he locked eyes with Zoro.

For a moment, it looked as though he was contemplating sitting next to Zoro.

But, ultimately, he decided against it as he gave Zoro one more peculiar smile before turning away and walking towards another passenger car.

Watching his retreating form, Zoro thought nothing more of the man as he instead reached over into his duffel bag to pull out his Walkman, connecting his headphones to the cassette player and placing the headpiece over his ears.

With a press of his thumb, Zoro clicked the play button and relaxed once more against the back of his seat, letting _Eye of the Tiger_ internally prepare him for what he was soon to endure.

* * *

_**4:20 p.m. Water 7 Station**._

All it took was one small step onto the hectic platform of the Water 7 train station to know he was definitely not in East Blue anymore.

It was November indeed, as was very much evident in East Blue, but not as much so here in Water 7, the air warm, without the brisk chill that rolled in with the wind in his hometown.

Before he began searching for the place he needed to go, Zoro's first order of business was to get the hell out of this train station. He hardly had the opportunity to fucking walk peacefully without some idiot in a rush bumping into him. He knew it was understandable and typical, given the setting, but that didn't stop it from being downright annoying.

So, grabbing his things once more, he blindly exited the train and moved through the crowded station until he somehow made it onto the sidewalk outside, where he was finally able to reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a small slip of paper.

Written on it was the name of his hotel, in Nami's smooth, elegant handwriting. He quickly noted the name and flipped the paper over.

Also drawn neatly, was a small map, containing a few arrows advising him to go left and right, beginning from his spot at the train station where she'd drawn a big green dot, signifying "Zoro."

In the corner of the slip, were the unwelcome words, 'Don't get lost.'

Zoro let out a snort at this, a little grateful, but mostly annoyed at Nami's irritating directions. Somehow, she always knew how to give him a hard time, even when she wasn't in his presence.

Lifting a finger, Zoro pressed it against the dot on the paper and moved it forward, tracing over the first arrow Nami drew, which was telling him to cross the street and then go straight, deeper into the city itself.

Maybe if he followed her directions for a little bit, he could figure out where the real shortcuts were. The ones that would surely take him all the way to-

"...the East Blue."

Zoro jumped in his spot, the swordsman swiftly turning to face the unexpected voice that had sounded just a few inches to his right. Meeting instantly familiar round eyes and that straw hat, Zoro realized that the voice belonged to the same man he had seen briefly on the train, who had jumped into the car at the last minute.

"The fuck-?" he spat in confusion, staring at the guy with a raised eyebrow. Zoro's slightly pissed-off expression didn't seem to faze the man as he hurriedly looked Zoro up and down, from his hair, to his face, and then finally to the case at his feet.

Then his eyes sparkled.

"I knew it! You're Zoro Roronoa, Demon of the East Blue, aren'tcha?" the man questioned excitedly, hardly giving Zoro the chance to respond. "I'm Luffy D. Monkey, nice to meet you!" He dove in for Zoro's unoccupied hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Okay..." Zoro trailed off awkwardly, retracting his hand slowly in bewilderment.

"What'cha doing here in Water 7? Got another competition?" Luffy asked, manic grin having settled into a fond smile as he looked at Zoro curiously, seemingly eager to talk to him.

Zoro frowned, wondering how this random guy was aware of the fact that he fought in competitions, not to mention his hated nickname. In the East Blue, it was rare for someone to recognize him outside of his sport's circle.

Not wanting to reveal exactly the type of competition, he decided to keep quiet.

"Something like that," he mumbled.

"I got one too. I'm gonna start kicking some ass tomorrow." He laughed, punching the air a few times as if to demonstrate. "Where are ya staying at?"

Oh, right. His hotel.

Zoro raised the map still in his hand and glanced down at it, his answer spilling from his mouth before he had time to stop himself.

"At a hotel little further up. Dressrosa or som-"

"Dressrosa!? Me too!" he chirped. "We can be roommates! So we gotta go there together."

The next thing Zoro knew, Luffy was hanging off his shoulder, peering at his map in close proximity and invading his space as if they hadn't only met properly moments ago.

His finger jabbed into the thin paper with nearly enough force to punch a hole through it, the digit tracing Nami's mess of directional arrows to the final circled location mere inches away, though it was surely freaking miles in real life, Zoro thought.

"That's the hotel?" Luffy asked, voice ringing in Zoro's ear.

Still, the swordsman merely huffed and nodded.

"Yeah," he grumbled, leaning his head away when dark hair rubbed directly against his cheek.

Luffy made a soft noise of contemplation, despite Zoro beginning to think the kid incapable of such advanced thought.

But his assumptions were almost immediately proven correct when Luffy exclaimed, "It's like a treasure hunt! Come on!"

And then a hand clamped down on Zoro's wrist, nearly ripping his arm from the socket as Luffy dragged him forward suddenly.

The boy tugged him to the edge of the curb where he leaned out precariously, checking for traffic that was definitely still coming on the busy street in front of the train station.

A blur of shapes whizzed by, peppered with the yellow of taxis and the neutrals of passenger cars.

Zoro turned his head to glance irritably at the clearly green traffic light down the block.

"Oi, you know there's a crosswa-"

But his sentence quickly morphed into an alarmed grunt when that vicegrip on his wrist tightened again, and he found himself tumbling right into the river of traffic, forced to sprint and dodge his way through the rushing current, the sounds of honking horns and Luffy's laughter joining his thundering heartbeat.

It was a miracle indeed when his sneakers finally touched safely onto the opposite sidewalk, the rapid curses and shouts of drivers now behind him, though he certainly added a few huffed profanities of his own to the mix.

A high-pitched cackle above him, and he glanced up to meet eyes with a hefty old woman hanging out a second-story window, watching them with a bottle of alcohol in hand.

Just great. They'd had an audience. Only five minutes in, but fuck this city already.

He ignored her, rolling first his eyes, then his shoulders, trying to regain some sense of dignity.

"What the hell does this look like to you, huh?" he growled at Luffy. "Fucking Frogger?"

Yet, his frustration mounted when he found the boy's attention focused elsewhere, his hand planted firmly on top of his straw hat as he sniffed the air like some dog.

Zoro scoffed. "Hello?" he grunted. "Hey, are you even listening?"

"This way!" was his answer, Luffy's face suddenly lighting up with an excited grin, his only warning before the boy grabbed hold of him again and pulled him down the sidewalk, past countless storefronts, practically skipping between the flow of pedestrians.

Zoro stumbled along behind him, took one last disdainful look at the map in his hand, then shoved the crumpled paper into his jacket pocket before marching forward with a bit more purpose.

Like he had any idea how to read Nami's directions anyway. Perhaps it was best to just blame everything on this moron if he got lost.

Something that he might very well have had to face soon enough when Luffy stopped them at the mouth of a side street nestled in shade between the tall buildings on either side.

They stood there and stared for a moment, the street, too narrow for traffic, bustling with people strolling beneath tattered awnings and signs that cast chilly shadows over the dark pavement.

It was a rather gloomy scene, Zoro thought, until he noticed-

"Food!" Luffy shouted, throwing his arms up as if this had been their destination all along.

And indeed, the colorful splash of vendors selling fruits, vegetables, and countless other wares served to brighten the place entirely upon second glance, the goods spilling out from the shops lining the street, leaving hardly enough room for pedestrians to make their way through.

But the pleasant chatter of those pedestrians filled the place, and when the first mouth-watering aroma of something grilled and delicious hit his nose, Zoro sighed, grudgingly accepting his defeat for the time-being.

"You hungry?" Luffy was asking, his body nearly vibrating with eagerness, his big eyes flicking consistently from Zoro's face to the street and back. "'Cause I'm starving! Can we eat? I wanna eat."

"Oh, _now_ you ask my opinion," Zoro huffed, but found the corners of his lips tilting up anyway when he heard the distant synthesizer of a rock song filtering into the street from an open window.

He shouldered Luffy forward into the stream of people, earning himself a victorious fist pump from his strange companion.

Various booths with different types of foods mesmerized mostly Luffy, who bought as many snacks as he could carry, all the while dragging Zoro along.

The swordsman indulged himself in a simple meat and vegetable kebab, enough to satisfy his hunger for a little while at least.

Eyes followed Luffy's fingers, the swordsman vaguely impressed as his companion managed to snatch another snack from a poor old woman's food booth without paying.

The corner of his lips lifted into a small smile, hurrying to catch up to Luffy, the crazy guy now running farther down the street, not without leaving a trail of cackles in his wake, along with one angry old woman.

Zoro followed, not completely sure why, considering he'd just met Luffy no more than ten minutes ago, but here he was, as if his legs, not his brain, were controlling his entire body.

There was something strange about this Luffy D. Monkey…. Strange enough that Zoro really didn't mind his company as much as he should have.

As he pushed through another small wave of people, Zoro felt his calves begin to burn, the road suddenly sloping upwards.

The faint rock music now faded completely, Zoro finding himself at the end of a street which led into a deeper part of the city. He was met with a busy road, cars and buses rushing past him.

After scanning the scene for a moment, Zoro finally located Luffy, standing at the street corner, seemingly lost in his own world as he stared up in awe at the countless tall buildings in that area, holding onto the top of his hat to keep it from falling clear off his head.

He seemed to have caught a glimpse of Zoro approaching, turning his head and flashing him a bright grin.

"Zoro! This city is so cool, huh?" Luffy exclaimed, bouncing in place excitedly.

Not a moment later though, and a shocked look took over his features, the boy suddenly squinting at something behind Zoro, who could only blink back at him.

And Zoro found himself even more baffled when Luffy unexpectedly sprinted past him to the streetlight placed on the corner, where he promptly swung himself in a circle and climbed it, just like his primate namesake.

It only took him a few seconds to reach the top, limbs clinging to the post securely. The boy made an exaggerated pout, his lips drawing out, shielding his eyes from the sun and stretching his neck out to see farther into the distance.

Zoro thought he looked ridiculous.

Maybe he was just an idiot after all.

"What the hell are you doing up there!?" Zoro called from down below, looking around them with some embarrassment to see people staring, some cars even honking as they drove past.

"I see it!" Luffy shouted in response, pointing ahead of him, confusing Zoro even more.

"See what?" Zoro squawked, baffled.

"Our hotel!" he confirmed, jumping down the pole with ease and landing on his feet perfectly.

What the fuck was this guy?

With some degree of reluctance, Zoro took out Nami's map once more, knowing there was no way they could have ended up in the right direction. Not with Luffy's aimless wandering.

Still, Zoro looked up at the street sign that Luffy had been grabbing on to and checked the street name.

_Enies Boulevard._

Unfolding the paper a little more, eyebrows slowly rose in surprise when he discovered the name was an exact match to the one written on Nami's map.

A frown and he looked back towards the direction Luffy pointed.

And sure enough, he saw, further to his left, barely visible past various shops and restaurants, a run-down hotel, its dull brown sign reading, _'Dressrosa.' _

Well, shit.

* * *

**_November 2, 1988. Thursday. 3:25 p.m. Water 7 Airport._**

Stepping out from the revolving door of the arrivals lobby with his luggage, the first thing Sanji did upon setting foot on the curb outside was to fish out his pack of cigarettes, eager to trade the suffocating air of the jet for some much-needed smoke, fingers, shaky from withdrawal, placing one between his lips.

He flicked open his gold lighter, extremely happy to see the familiar little flame, and lit his cigarette, taking a hasty drag and feeling his nerves instantly ease with the inhale. It was a much-needed indulgence before he continued his annoyingly lengthy trip.

The blond stood, scanning the long row of taxis and cars pulling up to the curb, the clatter of rolling suitcase wheels on the sidewalk and the distant honking of car horns filling his moment of silence.

Ms. Nico had apparently set him up with a driver and lodging for his stay in Water 7. He hadn't asked too many questions about that. He trusted both the woman's impeccable judgment and taste, knowing he would surely be more than satisfied by any accommodations arranged by her genius planning.

Another sweep of the cars, and the drivers who stood outside, some looking impatient, checking watches, others holding signs diligently for their respective patrons…

Nothing bearing his name…

"Mr. Black?"

The blond sucked in a breath in mild alarm when, instead of a sign, a low voice called for him, and he whirled his head around to find a new sedan, stylishly black, parked in the opposite direction of his initial gaze, its driver already standing beside the passenger door.

Sanji stared for a minute, taking in the man's odd appearance, purple hair, slicked to the side, and a rather gaudy suit of red and orange, perfectly tidied. That didn't even cover what, to the blond's surprise, appeared to be a live mouse peeking out of the driver's breast pocket, tiny white paws clutching the fabric, nose quivering as it sniffed the air.

What the hell…?

Well, after a moment to take in that scene, Sanji had to settle on the comfort that at least it wasn't a tarantula or some shit…

He had to remember his gorgeous Ms. Nico had arranged this for him. No complaining allowed. Even if his driver had turned out to be a talking reindeer.

Thus, he was rather proud that the only surprise he managed to betray was a slight furrow of brows, the blond refraining from comment other than a short reply of, "Yeah. You my ride?"

The driver simply nodded and opened the back passenger door expectantly before gesturing for Sanji's luggage.

His little moment of respite was sufficiently cut short now, but he supposed it was better to get moving again.

So, taking the sufficient amount of drags, in case he was asked not to smoke, Sanji wasted no further time and lifted up his suitcase and briefcase by his feet, clenching his cigarette between pursed lips, to walk over to the car.

Sanji handed over his luggage silently and slid into the backseat with his briefcase beside him while the chauffeur popped the trunk and deposited his suitcase.

Adjusting his glasses, Sanji resisted taking another puff of his cigarette until his driver entered as well and turned on the car.

"S'alright if I smoke?" he asked, to which the man nodded, much to Sanji's relief.

"Of course, sir," the driver replied as he finally eased the car back onto the road, stealing a glance over his shoulder at the blond. "Ms. Nico requested I take you to a hotel uptown to avoid any suspicions about your job status. A fresh face gets some competitors wondering..."

Rolling down his window a crack, Sanji finally took another drag and smirked, already suspecting his boss had made arrangements ahead of time, not the least bit surprised. She was smart and beautiful, after all.

"Sounds just fine."

Content with Sanji's response, the driver simply nodded again, the car falling quiet as they wound their way through the airport roads, past seemingly endless parking garages before merging onto the highway that led to the city.

Sanji took that time to relax, settling back in his seat until his cigarette was nearly gone before eventually releasing the butt out the window, which he rolled up once more.

It was time to get to work.

He turned to open his briefcase, thumb flicking round the small number dials until they gave a small click, and he pulled out his notebook of his jotted notes, eyes scanning the first part of his planned schedule. Of course, doing so only vividly refreshed his memory and he groaned internally, his eye twitching at the mere thought of what he had to do.

The absolute worst part...

Hunched over in annoyance, Sanji moved past that specific detail and continued reading the rest of his files, mentally scribbling down all the details of where he needed to be and when. He revisited old relevant news articles that he had cut out and placed in a folder, a bit thankful when the driver turned on the radio, the faint lyrics of _Take on Me_ crooning through his ears and giving him a bit of motivation to concentrate.

It was enough that, immersed in his reviewing, Sanji lost track of the amount of time that had gone by and soon noticed the long shadows that now fell onto his notes, making him glance up and peer out his window to see tall buildings outside.

The scenery passing by before him, he realized they were now driving through what looked to be an upscale part of the city, fancy edifices, modern and beautiful, lining the streets in pristine fashion.

Well-dressed people walked down the sidewalk, a trio of lovely ladies in particular catching Sanji's eye.

Which naturally resulted in the blond rolling down his window with haste to call out to them when the car fortuitously reached a red light.

"Greetings, Mademoiselles! I hope you all have an amazing day!" he screeched, practically shoving himself out the window while kissing his palm repeatedly and sending them flying air smooches. The women gave him strange looks and visibly recoiled in disgust, but Sanji was completely unperturbed.

Luckily for the women, the car wasn't stopped for long, soon picking up speed again, forcing Sanji to give up his foolish greeting.

Sighing in bliss, he dramatically retreated back through the window and rolled it up once more, hand to his heart. He took a moment to flop back in his seat, imagination now full of romantic possibilities that would surely greet him in this city of love.

But he wasn't a _complete_ fool. He couldn't let himself be distracted for too long. So he opened his eyes, only to be met with the baffled gaze of the driver in the rearview mirror.

Sanji blinked for a moment, a little unnerved by his audience, before quickly averting eyes and letting out an embarrassed cough, self-conscious fingers fumbling with his collar and hair as he straightened in his seat.

"How much longer until we arrive?" Sanji asked in a rather pathetic attempt to act as if the scene he'd just caused had never happened.

And it worked, though he supposed he had the driver's merciful discretion to thank for that.

"Shouldn't be too long now," the man replied smoothly. "Just up ahead if there's no traffic."

This had Sanji glancing out the vehicle's front window, noticing that the road was still relatively clear, but there were signs of traffic slowing down ahead, a few taxis and buses honking at one another to try and fit into the lanes.

Nodding silently, Sanji closed his file folder and placed it back into his briefcase, which he shut and locked, deciding he'd reviewed enough. There would surely be time to continue later.

And indeed, not too long after, the car slowed and pulled into the front drive of a hotel, its name, _Sabaody_, placed over the entrance in graceful cursive. It was one that wasn't too crowded by the looks of it, no long line of cars outside, and certainly high-class, fucking pompous even, in Sanji's opinion, judging by its exterior.

An unnecessary amount of plants littered the landscaping, the smell of various kinds of flowers filling Sanji's nose, almost unbearably so when the driver parked the car near the entrance and opened the door.

The place clearly had an airy Greek theme going for it, two large marble pillars placed at either side of the hotel's entrance, cement lions elegantly lounging atop the stairs.

It was almost too much, but again, no complaints about Ms. Nico's lovely choices.

So he stepped out of the car, retrieved his suitcase from his driver and gave him a somewhat generous tip. The guy wasn't a gorgeous lady (certainly not with a strange name like Iceburg, as Sanji noted from the name card mounted on the dashboard), but the ride had been comfortable.

With a final goodbye, Sanji turned and walked towards the building, entering its just-as-fancy lobby, where he looked up and was met with a glass ceiling. It lit up the entire room perfectly, blue skies visible outside, the ceiling framed by lush green plants that spilled out over built-in planters. They managed to achieve opulence to staggering, if slightly over-the-top, effect.

He retrieved his already reserved room key from the receptionist and took the elevator to the sixth floor.

He would have to properly thank Ms. Nico for the arrangements, because, while Sanji thought the exterior of the hotel was a bit much, his room was amazing.

The room was practically luminescent, everything-walls, furniture-a clean white which Sanji found quite relaxing, making him want to forget what he'd come there to do in favor of making use of that luxurious bed, perhaps sleep the rest of the day away. But alas...

Instead, he placed his suitcase on top of the bed and reluctantly began unpacking.

Suits were hung in the closet, shirts and ties folded nicely into the dresser. He may have been there temporarily, but it was no excuse not to properly care for his clothes.

Sliding the drawers shut, he noticed the glass doors on the other end of the room, leading to a balcony. Curious, he walked over to see that, from where he stood, he was able to see the ocean that bordered the city.

Yes, definitely had to thank Robin.

He made a mental note to enjoy that view with a smoke later.

Another minute spent leaning on the railing, taking in the gentle waves in the distance and the refreshing smell of the salty air before he sighed and stepped back inside, though he left the door open to let in the breeze.

Returning to his task, he finished putting all his clothes and toiletries where they needed to be and decided it was finally time to set part one of his project in motion.

Which meant he'd be taking a shower. Because wasn't that the best place to scheme?

* * *

**_5:00 p.m. Dressrosa Hotel. Water 7._**

Maybe the place had been an actual worthwhile destination at one point in its history, especially with a dumb, fancy name like 'Dressrosa'. But those days were long fucking gone, Zoro thought when he found himself standing in a musty pink lobby, lit by horrible fluorescents and smelling like cigarettes that made it feel like he'd entered a horror film rather than a hotel.

Except, wait, there was already a movie about that, wasn't there. Guess he wasn't wrong.

But it hardly mattered to the swordsman whether or not the Battle Royale went cheap with their competitors' lodging. As long as he had a place to crash and access to a minibar, he'd survive.

On the contrary, a glance to Luffy at his left showed the other man gazing around the lobby in awe, as if he was suddenly ten years old and just bursting into a Chuck E. Cheese's for the first time.

Whatever. Zoro supposed he wouldn't spoil the guy's fun. If well-trodden industrial carpets, fake plants, and peeling wallpaper excited him, so be it.

The swordsman strode past him towards a long counter on the opposite end of the room, which he had to guess was the reception desk, not that the person behind it gave any hint, the woman not even so much as looking up from her fashion magazine until they'd fully approached.

Placing his case down on the ground beside him, Zoro rested his arms on the counter of the reception desk and locked eyes with the receptionist.

"I'm Zoro Roronoa," he stated bluntly. "Here for the Battle Royale."

"And I'm Luffy D. Monkey! Also going to kick some ass in the Battle Royale!" chirped his companion, the other man's fingers pressing on the counter while he bounced on the tips of his toes.

Zoro was silent through the man's enthusiasm, though inside, his stomach did a small flip.

Just as he suspected. This strange man was a competitor.

The receptionist chuckled at the loud man and proceeded to hand Zoro and Luffy their keys, which they both took and headed for their rooms.

Spotting an elevator, Zoro began walking towards it, Luffy following closely behind.

"What number key do you have, Zoro?" Luffy asked from behind him, catching up to his side in a small jog as Zoro pressed the up button.

Zoro lifted up his hand holding the key, which read number _603_.

"Sweet! I'm room 605! We're neighbors," Luffy laughed, raising his own key. "Do you have your awesome swords in that case!?" he persisted, pointing at the box held by Zoro in his right hand, making him glance down at the black leather case.

"They're all in here," Zoro confirmed. "You really here for the Battle Royale?" he asked, wanting to know for sure.

The doors to the elevator opened with a bit of hesitance, obviously worn.

"Yup! I'm gonna fight with my bare fists," Luffy answered simply as he stepped in, with a cheeky grin, the doors sliding shut once more. He lifted his left arm to flex, his fist closed and right palm coming up to rest on his bicep.

He was a skinny-ass kid. Zoro wondered if he'd be able to pull his weight, but he wasn't going to underestimate him. From attitude alone, Luffy seemed to have some fight in him.

Still, it wasn't going to stop Zoro from messing with him.

"You sure you can take someone down with those bony arms?" Zoro scoffed, jerking his chin at the twigs attached to the boy's shoulders.

Luffy stared straight ahead, a pout on his lips.

"Shut up! I can punch damn hard! I'm pretty sure I could knock your teeth in," he grumbled, causing Zoro to chuckle and roll his eyes.

And then suddenly, a sharp force hit his shoulder and Zoro shut up immediately, grasping his shoulder with a small, pained wince. Luffy wasn't looking at him, instead looking away with an obvious smile he was trying to hold back.

"Told you I could punch," he muttered. "And that was just a baby punch."

Damn… Zoro thought sulkily, resisting the urge to rub at the throbbing spot.

He'd been right. Luffy definitely had some fight in him.

It wasn't long before the man laughed though, sticking his tongue out at Zoro, unable to drop his childish ways for long, it seemed.

Luffy intertwined his fingers and rested his hands behind his head in a casual pose.

"I'm letting you know now. I'm going to be the next Royale King," he stated randomly.

Zoro blinked in confusion. "Royale…King? Is that even a thing?"

Luffy dropped his arms.

"Yeah! That's my name for it. Got a problem?"

"Nope," Zoro muttered. He was only there for one reason, after all. And that certainly wasn't to defeat every damn person in the tournament. He could, surely, but no, he had one man in particular in his sights.

"Good!" Luffy chirped. "So then, why are you here?"

Zoro squirmed a bit, not liking how the boy seemed to read his thoughts. He knew why he'd come to the Grand Line to fight in the Battle Royale, but it wasn't something he'd expected a near stranger to ask him so soon.

But Zoro didn't care what other people thought. He didn't care that most would think him crazy for joining a deadly underground fighting tournament held in secret. A battle with no limits, accepting all kinds of fighting techniques.

So what if there was no referee standing on the sidelines to stop a brawl if it were to get too brutal. So what if it was a fight until the end, whether that meant life or death.

That didn't make him crazy for joining.

He wasn't there to die, after all. He was there to win. And he was the only one allowed to say anything about his own ambitions.

"I'm…fighting in place of someone I knew," Zoro said quietly in response, opting for the vague response rather than the full story.

Oddly, following his statement, Luffy went quiet for the first time since Zoro had met him, only smiling as the elevator came to a stop, the doors opening once more.

That smile, and the silence of the stopped elevator brought an awkwardness to the atmosphere.

Neither of them said anything more, giving Zoro the chance to, once again, take in the quality (or lack thereof) of the hallway they walked out into.

The hosts of the tournament were indeed covering the cost of the hotel for their competitors, but they really had chosen to have them stay in a pretty run-down place, presumably because the owners were involved. The lobby had sure been a warning about that. The yellow wallpaper covering the walls of the hallway was almost peeling off, the designs on it fading, the smell of cigarettes still permeating.

The carpet the two walked over was no longer red, but a dirty burgundy, stains from who knew what coating it in different areas.

Thankfully, the two weren't wandering the ugly halls for long, as they quickly found their room numbers, even the doors looking beaten and old. Zoro could only imagine what it was actually like inside the room.

"You should come over to my room sometime and maybe we can spar, Zoro! Or we can order some pizza!" Luffy suggested in his excitement as Zoro was in the midst of putting his key into his lock.

_Has this guy forgotten that we might end up fighting against each other?_ Zoro thought, rather incredulous.

Zoro turned to face Luffy and answer his question, but stopped when he spotted something strange down the hallway.

A long-nosed man, who seemed to be reading off the numbers of the doors in the hallway, was stumbling through, evidently nervous about something. The man continued, oblivious to the two across the hall watching him curiously.

After only a few seconds, however, the man saw them and his eyes widened, as if in fear.

"Hello! Excuse me, have you seen two men, named, uh…"

He trailed off, gaze dropping to a weathered piece of paper he held in shaky fingers, well worn from countless folding and unfolding.

"Ah! Zoro Roronoa and Luffy D. Monkey?" the long-nosed man questioned as he approached the two, hesitation clear in his voice.

"I'm Luffy, and that's Zoro. Who's asking?" Luffy responded for the both of them with no hesitation, jamming a thumb towards Zoro.

"Ah, perfect. The name's Usopp," the man introduced in relief, clearing his throat. "The manager told me you two were staying on this floor. Anyway, you both are fighting in the Battle Royale, right?

Since there's fighters from all over, I've been assigned to help the two of you from the East Blue find your way around and see that you don't disqualify yourselves by fighting outside the arena," he explained with a small boost of confidence. "After you guys settle into your rooms, I can take you to the arena to sign up."

A little confused at the man's sudden and brief introduction, Zoro and Luffy said nothing, before shrugging, each heading into their rooms to unpack.

* * *

**_5:00 p.m. Sabaody Hotel. Water 7._**

Standing before his room's full-length mirror, Sanji gave himself a once-over, making sure that his outfit was nothing short of perfect for the occasion. He was dressed in a white button-up with yellow stripes, black slacks, and dress shoes, brought together by matching yellow-tinted sunglasses.

Was it a bit much for an underground fighting ring? Those without any sense would have thought so, but Sanji figured it wasn't, considering he knew one of the managers in the joint to enjoy a good feather boa. There was no comparison.

So, satisfied that his outfit wasn't too formal or too casual, he was about to step away from the mirror but stopped himself, noting the finishing touch. Fingers reaching the top of his shirt, he unbuttoned the first two buttons, showing off the appropriate amount of skin.

Now it was perfect.

Walking over to the dresser where he had placed his fragrances, Sanji ultimately bypassed them in favor of staying subtle, heading for his watch instead.

But just as he was about to clasp the band around his wrist, he found himself interrupted by the high-pitched sound of his cellular phone's ringtone coming from the bed where he'd reverently placed the bulky device earlier. It was a work phone, yet another expensive perk provided by Ms. Nico, after all.

There weren't many who called him on it, however, and, unfortunately, he was only expecting one caller that particular day.

Sanji barely held back a groan and made his way over to pick up the phone, drawing out its antenna and flipping it open. With a small beep, he accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Sanji!" A gravelly voice managed to filter through the crackly reception of the phone. "Heard you're checked in. You ready to go? I'll be there in about five."

"Hi, Gin," Sanji replied, smoothly covering up his annoyance with a pleasant tone. How the hell had the guy learned where he was? Still, not a question for that moment.

"Just about!" Sanji continued. "I'll meet you at the entrance. No need to come up, alright?"

"Great, see you soon~" Gin answered, thankfully without further conversation before he hung up rather abruptly.

Letting out a breath of relief, Sanji returned his cellular phone gently to its dock on the bed and resumed his preparations.

As irritating as it was, Gin was part one of his plan, one that he didn't particularly want to associate with, but knew he had to if he wanted to complete his goal and write his prized article.

During the weeks he'd been developing his plan, one thing had stumped him. A _major_ thing, all things considered.

He'd been completely unsure as to how he was going to enter the Battle Royale as a reporter. After some digging, Sanji learned they didn't allow just any civilian to go through. It wasn't that easy, something he had figured already. He wasn't a complete imbecile, crashing in like he owned the place.

The only ones allowed to enter were the competitors, the management of the event, and the audience, which mainly consisted of people who were involved in the same type of dirty underground work and competitions.

But that was ultimately how Sanji found his press ticket in.

After attending and posing as a normal member of the audience in the less important competitions back in the North Blue a few times, he'd been able to use his unending charms to talk his way through some people, making connections here and there until eventually, he'd found a man who had secretly informed him that he was to soon attend the Battle Royale. A most convenient piece of information.

He was a rugged-looking man, thin, with scruffy hair and beard. He had dark circles under his eyes, looking as though he lacked sleep.

In the times that he and Sanji met up, he constantly smelled like booze, something that Sanji was barely able to withstand. But he had, for the sake of his article, and they'd grown closer, enough so that Sanji had learned more information... and enough that Gin had developed feelings for Sanji.

Which Sanji had taken complete advantage of.

He was a man only for the ladies, after all.

Gin never admitted his feelings, but he made it very obvious with his sleazy flirtations, touches to Sanji's back or hand.

Not once did Sanji ever reciprocate those touches. And he wasn't planning on doing so, either.

And yet, in the end, leading up to that day, Gin had been more than happy to escort Sanji to the Battle Royale, securing Sanji's way in. Awful as it was, he just had to tolerate the guy's creepy advances for a little while longer...

Appearance now presentable, Sanji gathered his important items, his cellular phone, cigarettes, and lighter all a given, a notepad and pencil and his audio recorder also necessary, and easily placed them into a tan sack where he also inserted a change of clothes and swung it over his shoulder.

Locking up his hotel room, Sanji then headed towards the elevators and made his way down once more into the lobby, striding with unsuspicious confidence as he did so.

Just a few feet away from the entrance doors, he saw the familiar red Audi Cabriolet convertible parked out front.

And sure enough, he recognized Gin leaning back against his car as he neared it, sole of his right shoe carefully propped against the side door.

Sanji suspected it was Gin's effort to appear cool and impress him, but honestly Sanji thought he looked ridiculous.

As was his choice of clothing, Sanji somewhat judgmentally noted, the man wearing a dark purple suit that looked like he'd just stepped off a disco floor. His usual burgundy spherical earrings were replaced by a long gold chain hanging from his left ear.

"Gin!" he called out in fake cheer, catching the man's attention as he approached.

"Sanji. Definitely a pleasure to see you again. You look stunning," he purred flirtatiously, striving for Sanji's hand which the blond effortlessly avoided, something he'd learned to do after spending so much time with the man.

"Why thank you." Sanji smiled softly, completely ignoring the man's amorous compliment.

Nonetheless pleased, Gin opened the passenger side door for Sanji and walked around to get into the driver's seat.

As soon as he sat down, the leather seats creaked a bit loudly, Sanji glancing up and noting the fuzzy blue dice hanging from the car's rearview mirror.

_Seriously..._ Sanji thought silently with an unimpressed quirk of his brow.

Gin hopped in, jamming the key into the ignition, starting the car, and gliding out of the hotel's drive, onto the streets, busy now that evening had arrived.

The sun was just beginning to go down, the bright shine of day gradually dwindling, a light amber appearing to spot the sky. It should have been beautiful, had it not been for the company.

"Today's basically just a day for auditions," Gin drawled, glancing at Sanji, left arm propped on the ridge of the open car window, driving with just his right hand.

"The competitors gotta try out and prove they won't die the minute they step into the arena. Have to put up some type of fight, y'know," he continued, and Sanji nodded, something he already knew.

Gin must have thought he was completely clueless about everything involving the Battle Royale...

"It'll be interesting to see this year's competition. Don't you think?" Sanji said almost quietly, a smirk breaching the corner of his lips.

The November wind blew slightly then, flowing through his blonde strands and into his collared shirt. But Sanji didn't feel cold; a small warmth was tickling his skin.

"Yeah. Gotta keep an eye out for the strong-looking ones so you know who to bet on. Imagine the amount of money we can win in that joint." Gin laughed. As if Sanji was in this for money. "If I can win some cash, I'll take you out on a date, hm?" He hummed suggestively while scratching his beard.

"...We'll just have to see, won't we?" Sanji chuckled uncomfortably, neither accepting nor denying his question. He still had to put up with Gin, and he wasn't going to jeopardize that yet by outright rejecting him.

Oblivious to Sanji's thoughts, Gin shot him a wide grin and continued driving, now beginning to take a few turns into some more secluded streets.

It was almost scary how seamlessly the beautiful outskirts of the city morphed into a gross, obviously dangerous area. Luxurious apartments and stores getting left behind, Sanji turned his head around to watch them disappear.

A bit of smoke filled the air, tinted with the scent of gasoline, a heavy truck passing by Gin's car making the smell become extra strong. Mini-vans and older cars whirred by, following it. The streets were a lot more crowded with people, jaywalking across the roads easily without getting hit by cars.

Lines of store signs decorated the sidewalks, some with no business being next to one another.

An Indian restaurant, a family medical clinic, and right beside that, a club...

But Sanji was neutral to the scenery surrounding him, no stranger to this type of atmosphere.

Unlit cigarette held between his teeth, Sanji bit down on the end of it, his nerves somewhat ticked. His eyes glinted behind his sunglasses, moving his hand to whip them off and put back on his prescription ones.

He suddenly wasn't in a fashionable mood.

Slowing down his car, Gin made the motion to parallel park in front of a department store, which hardly looked like the location they were both heading to.

Sanji gave him a look that made Gin explain subtly, "We have to park a certain distance away from it so we don't get anyone following our tail. They'll be pissed if we draw in the cops."

"Makes sense," was all Sanji said as Gin killed the ignition, both men hopping out of the vehicle.

Sanji let Gin lead the way, following him into an alley which led to many more. All the while, Sanji felt as though the bag over his shoulder was weighing his heart into the ground.

* * *

**_5:52 p.m__._**

Somehow feeling like they could trust the strange man they'd encountered in the hotel hallway, less than an hour later, Zoro and Luffy followed him out into one of the less prominent areas of Water 7.

Zoro found himself once again in the sea of people out on the street.

The roads were busy with vehicles, honking resonating from random buses, cars, and even scooters. It was a lively street, one with many people. Surely the Battle Royale wasn't in this part of town.

The three strode silently. Usopp smiled as he led the way, clearly content with having found his two assigned men, and they weren't as scary-looking as he'd expected.

Luffy and Zoro looked above them, at the buildings, most of them apartments in different colors and sizes. But they both looked ahead when they felt themselves walking down a slope and into what looked to be a more discrete and isolated location.

"Water 7 is a pretty big city, so it'll be easy to get lost," Usopp explained. "Especially in this area. This isn't the place to get yourself involved in anything messy. There's a lot of mean-looking people around. Every time I walk past the obscured corners around here, the guys there look like they'll kill me," he ranted shakily, yet he tried to laugh off his foreboding statement.

It was drizzling now, the smallest of raindrops hitting Zoro's face as he listened, noting that this area did in fact look dangerous.

Slightly worn-out buildings lined the streets. A neon light reading 'open' on a dirty liquor store window flickered through the darkening evening. Graffiti was crudely painted over a surprisingly resilient dentist's office, the 'T' from the sign unscrewed and hanging upside-down.

Laughter emitted from a nearby bar, along with the clinking of glasses.

And right beside that bar, Zoro spotted a small group of men huddled together on the sidewalk. Eyeing the three men as they passed, they did indeed look mean, just like Usopp had said.

"I'm surprised I haven't gotten mugged out on these streets yet, but I think I scare them off with my obvious muscles," Usopp went on, flexing said muscles proudly. "You guys seem pretty tough too, gotta say. I'm gonna root for either of you two to win the Battle Royale."

He smiled as he turned to look at them.

"I'm for sure going to win!" Luffy exclaimed with a small chuckle, glancing at Zoro. "Sorry, Zoro," he added with a grin.

"We'll see about that," Zoro replied with a small smile of his own, just before the trio turned a corner into an old dirty alleyway, where two men stood, engaged in conversation. They instantly stopped when the three men appeared.

"Here we are, guys," Usopp told them nervously. "Prepare yourselves."

Usopp took a deep breath and slowly approached one of the men and whispered in his ear, the man eyeing Zoro and Luffy judgmentally.

"Go ahead," he sneered as Usopp stepped away from him.

They walked past the men and into a concealed doorway, which led them directly into another alley, this one much narrower, and dark, pipes hanging above their heads, leading in different directions, some dripping liquid.

To their right were the back doors of isolated shops, the smell from their cheap food wafting out the door. Sparks from jumbled wires against the wall glinted randomly from separate ends. They were in an alley wedged between poor-looking apartments. Zoro looked up to see balconies from those apartments littered above him, some unbelievably close to one another.

Reaching the end of the alleyway, they turned a final corner where two more men were posted, guarding a pair of enormous red doors. The sound of yelling, chatter, and punches rumbled through the door, already audible from the outside.

While Usopp once again talked to the guards, Zoro felt a small pat on his back, glancing to Luffy, who flashed him the biggest grin he'd seen yet.

And just a few moments later, they walked through the red doors and were immediately faced with what was sure to be the arena of the Battle Royale. The smell was the first thing to hit Zoro.

Sweat. Blood. Metal. Smoke. All of it a blast of dank warmth in his face that was oddly invigorating, had his fingers gripping his sword case tighter and his heart beating just that little bit faster, particularly when the sound of sharp fight cries and fierce smacks against bare skin reached his ears.

His eyes drifted to the middle of the surprisingly spacious room to find a large mat, lit harshly by overhead lights that served as spotlights in the otherwise dim space, showcasing several practicing competitors, throwing kicks at one another, others scattered around the perimeter, also practicing.

Above the fighting ring, attached to the wall, was a scoreboard, where the names of those competing were placed, and just underneath was a small booth for the hosts to sit and watch.'

Surrounding the whole room were wooden bleachers, where those who were allowed to enter and view could sit and place their bets on who they thought would win each round.

It was a crude set-up, but Zoro hadn't been expecting the Olympics. He'd known what he was getting himself into.

Still, it was pretty wild to think that _this_ cavernous hellhole was where his dreams would be realized.

Eyes did another sweep of the room, the swordsman now noticing a table just before the fighting platform, behind which sat a peculiar-looking man, a gaudy feather boa covering his large form and sunglasses over his eyes, though Zoro couldn't understand why, given the lighting in the place.

The man grinned wickedly as he looked down at the clipboard he scanned over, leading Zoro to believe he'd located the man in charge.

Zoro inhaled deeply. He had finally made it, more than ready to go through with the promise he'd made, all those years ago.

Clenching his grip on his case, silently facing his new reality, Zoro was completely unaware of the heated stare coming from a certain bespectacled blond over on the sidelines.


	3. Encounter

► _You Shook Me All Night Long_ \- AC/DC (1980)

* * *

_**November 2, 1988. Thursday. 5:56 p.m. Battle Royale Arena.**_

"Alright, guys, so here's the deal," Usopp started, raising a steady finger and looking at the two with a stern look. "First, you're going to show that guy there your invitation. Then, you have to qualify and prove to him that you won't lose your life so easily out there. Got it?"

"Yup!" Luffy chuckled, hand over the top of his hat as he grinned at Usopp, his eyes shining brightly.

Usopp watched him for a second, very confused as to why this man seemed extremely excited when he was just about to sign up for one of the deadliest matches in the Grand Line.

Usopp couldn't even imagine participating in the match himself, which was why he was strictly the manager for different people competing each year, giving him the right to sit with the crowd and away from the competitors who could very easily kill him.

Giving Luffy one last skeptical look, Usopp ignored his strange answer and turned his attention to Zoro, who was still looking around the room, the man's hand stuffed casually into his jeans pocket, his posture almost relaxed. These men had no care in the world.

"Got it, Zoro?" Usopp stressed, watching Zoro anxiously as he waited for his response.

The green-haired man turned to face him, expression blank. He had been somewhat paying attention, not completely, but he nonetheless nodded his head.

"Mm-hm."

Usopp raised an eyebrow, obviously suspicious that Zoro hadn't listened to a word he said. But he didn't say anything else, only sighed shakily and stretched an arm in front of him, signaling Zoro and Luffy to proceed.

Somehow, he knew that, sooner or later, these two men for whom he was responsible...were going to cost him his job.

* * *

The moment Usopp allowed it, Luffy was already setting off in his excitement, more than eager to sign up as fast as he possibly could, much to Zoro's intrigue.

Usopp attempted to yell after him, but only a jabbered mess of incoherent words spilled from his mouth as if he hadn't expected the man to just run off like some child.

As Luffy ran, despite the short distance to the table, he was able to catch the attention of some of the people around him, who turned towards him in question.

"I'm Luffy D. Monkey! Here's my invitation! Hurry and sign me up!" he rambled childishly, holding out the invitation and flailing it.

He stood before the sign-up table, bouncing on his toes, just as he had in the hotel's lobby, Zoro noticed. In the span of a mere hour, he had already come to realize that the man had strange energy welling in him that sure as hell seemed endless.

For some reason, Zoro didn't really have a problem with it, but instead found it rather amusing.

"What a weird guy," Usopp mumbled to himself, seemingly worried about just _how_ he was going to make sure the man didn't get kicked out of the tournament before it even started.

Zoro only nodded in agreement.

The man sitting at the table simply chuckled at Luffy's antics as he accepted his invitation.

He watched as Usopp and Zoro approached him, a smirk making its way onto his face as he focused on Zoro in particular.

Unfazed by the sign-up man's unusual demeanor, Zoro handed him his invitation in a detached manner before once more tucking his hand into his jeans pocket and tightening his grip on his case's handle with the other, a habit he'd formed over the years.

"Zoro Roronoa, Demon of the East Blue. Hadn't been expecting to see you here," the man drawled, his voice smooth and deep. As he talked, his smirk only grew wider. "The Battle Royale will definitely be interesting this year." He ended his remark with a chilling chuckle.

Zoro paid him no mind.

His eyes fell upon the small name tag the man had pinned to his white open shirt. _Doflamingo_, it read, in sharply slanted handwriting. Not that the tag was very noticeable, the large pink feathered coat enveloping the man's large form obscuring it slightly from view.

The sunglasses he wore glimmered, the bright light in the room reflecting upon them. Why he had sunglasses on indoors, Zoro would never know.

Stepping away from the table, Zoro waited to see who would go first to prove their abilities, him or Luffy. Zoro turned to look at Luffy, as he had been standing next to him, but the black-haired man was nowhere to be found.

"Yo, Usopp," Zoro called, the other man glancing up as he had been checking the watch on his wrist. "Where's Luffy?"

Usopp made a face of confusion and looked around the area, letting out an appalled sound, noticing Luffy's sudden disappearance.

The room was pretty lively, with many things happening. Contestants were spread out, and the audience talked amongst one another.

But suddenly, over the din of the crowds, Luffy's voice boomed from the opposite side of the rectangle-shaped arena, Zoro and Usopp immediately walking over to see what he was doing. From the tone and pitch of his voice, it sounded as though he was laughing and having fun at the same time.

As they walked over, they noticed that Luffy was running and interacting with each contestant he came across. He pushed them and peered over their shoulders, much to their disdain.

"What is he doing!? He's going to get kicked out if he keeps messing around!" Usopp panicked in his spot, clutching his hair and biting his lip.

Zoro made no reaction, only shrugging with a chuckle.

"Guess you gotta go after him."

"I can't! Do you see how fast he is?" he shrieked, watching as Luffy continued disturbing the other competitors.

Zoro smirked. "Shitty manager, aren't you?"

Usopp sent him a glare, hardly menacing in any way. "Shut it."

Luffy then whirred past them, giggling with his eyes closed, flailing his arms, sandal slaps echoing.

"Luffy! Stop running! Or you're going to get us both in trouble!" Usopp called out nervously, arm reaching out to him in hopes to stop him, but to no avail.

His hand only grazed the sleeze of Luffy's red T-shirt, the man ignoring him as he suddenly shouted, "Anyone know a good place where I can get some meat!? Gotta fill up my belly!"

No one answered him, confused as to why the fool was behaving this way at an event that was supposed to be taken seriously, even if it hadn't begun yet.

But his running spree came to an end when he took a right turn and collided with someone, falling backwards, straight onto his ass, letting out a small, "Oof."

In that moment, the color drained from Usopp's face, seeing as how Luffy had bumped into a person _much _larger and taller than he was.

In front of him was an overweight man with long, wavy blond hair under a red hat. He wore a sizeable red shirt decorated with swirling designs, and, just like Doflamingo, he had on dark sunglasses.

On his arm, there was a tattoo of a circle appearing to be a smiley face with a line crossing the middle.

This man was clearly no ordinary man. The only ones who sported that odd tattoo were the staff members of the Battle Royale. From Zoro and Usopp's angle, they could plainly see that he had a name tag as well, pinned to the front of his shirt. _Machvise._

Machvise formed a sneer as he snickered at Luffy, finding the fact that he had fallen very amusing. He hadn't moved an inch from the impact.

"Finally got you to stop screaming. Huh, twerp," he rumbled, peering down at Luffy, who was still on the ground. "What're you causing such a ruckus for?"

Luffy looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, a small pout on his lips, but he stood up to dust off his jeans. He had a habit of ignoring people, it seemed.

Not answering his questions or reacting to the insult, Luffy crossed his arms seriously and instead asked, "Is there any meat here?"

Zoro let out a quiet laugh upon hearing Luffy's response, shaking his head while Usopp squeaked.

"Meat?" the large man replied, baffled. "D'you know where you are? There ain't any meat here, you damn kid."

Luffy let out a confused noise before closing his eyes and whining.

"But how am I gonna show how strong I am with no meat?" he said, swinging his arms.

Machvise was getting irritated by Luffy's questions and voice.

Placing a bare foot in front of him, he approached Luffy and looked over the smaller man.

"Y'know what. I actually ate all the meat you're talking about, so there ain't any left for you," he teased, raising both of his arms in victory.

Luffy's pout grew further, not liking the 'news' he had just been given.

"That's not fair!" he yelled, swinging his right arm with a clenched fist and aiming blindly in front of him…

...at a target which happened to be Machvise's stomach. His fist connected with the skin, resonating in the small space, and the large man was sent flying directly backwards and into the audience bleachers.

The wind was knocked out of him, his eyes going white for a split second in midair.

Usopp's face turned just as white as his mouth gaped. Zoro grimaced, knowing the impact must've been painful, the punch he'd received from Luffy in the elevator resurfacing in his memory.

Machvise groaned from his position on the ground, unbelievably bewildered that he had just been knocked over by a man of Luffy's size, and into a damn wall at that. He felt the pieces of wood from the bleachers digging into his back and it angered him.

He glowered at Luffy from his sunglasses, as the boy only scratched the back of his head sheepishly, giving a casual apology.

"Sorry about that! Shishishi. I guess I don't know my own strength sometimes."

"_Fuffuffuffuffu," _Doflamingo suddenly laughed, Zoro looking behind him to see the man standing atop the large rectangle fighting ring, peering at the display that had just happened before him.

A shocked expression came over Machvise's face when he heard Doflamingo laugh, because he was laughing at him!

"Doffy," the man began, sitting up, a vein emerging onto his forehead. "Kick this twerp outta here! He's got no right being in a place like this!"

He strained as he waited for a response from Doflamingo, the man only continuing to grin wickedly for some reason.

"Why would I do that?" Doflamingo asked Machvise in particular, stepping down from the platform and striding towards Luffy, feathered boa flowing all the way.

Looking at Doflamingo with wide and innocent eyes, Luffy only smiled, looking as though he hadn't a care in the world and what he'd just done was a mere walk in the park.

Zoro and Usopp walked over to them, Zoro curious as to what the outcome of the situation would be and Usopp biting his fingernails, hoping he wouldn't have to lose his job.

"You're in, Straw Hat," Doflamingo announced, placing a hand on Luffy's shoulder, and the boy's eyes widened even more than they already were as he let out an audible gasp, along with the audience.

Zoro smirked, finding it ridiculous yet entertaining that _this _was the way Luffy had entered the tournament, not the least bit mad. He just hoped he'd be able to get in as well.

Usopp felt like he was going to pass out, not believing that any of it was happening at all.

"Really!? Yes!" Luffy exclaimed, pumping his fist and jumping into the air. He then scurried towards his two companions as he giggled brightly. "I did it, guys!" he cheered.

"Yeah, you did," Usopp agreed weakly.

"Way to go," Zoro stated, pushing down the top of Luffy's hat.

Doflamingo emerged before them, not bothering to help Machvise who had finally stood up, grumbling curses off to the side.

"It's your turn, Demon Hunter," he snickered.

Zoro met his gaze sharply and nodded.

* * *

The room now a bit more tranquil, it was finally Zoro's turn.

"Show me what you can do, Roronoa," Doflamingo rumbled, an almost eager glint in his eye.

He gestured to a pile of bricks on a table that was put off to the side. They were stacked neatly, one over the other, in three rows, with six bricks each.

Zoro watched the pile for a moment, thinking to himself which sword he should use.

A brief second passed and, having decided, he carefully set down his case, then swiftly took off his jacket and held it out for Usopp to grab, leaving him in his ragged black shirt, double red stripes on both shoulders leading to the end of his sleeves.

He then lowered himself, moving to open his case.

"_No." _

Doflamingo's voice halted his movements.

"Use this," he instructed and held out a small blade, its length no longer than twelve inches. It had no hilt, but instead was wrapped in a roll of cloth. It was clear the point of the blade was frighteningly sharp.

Usopp let out a small screech at the object and hid himself behind Luffy, who watched in composed awe.

But Zoro, accustomed to using any type of blade, wasn't afraid and received it with ease, grabbing its dull end with his left hand. He grasped it upside-down with steady fingers.

He once again watched the bricks, this time with concentration as he furrowed his eyebrows, narrowed his eyes, crinkled his nose, and pursed his lips. He brought out one leg beside him, bending the other at the knee just slightly. He lifted his arm up towards his face, the edge of the knife centimeters away from his right ear.

And finally, with a swift movement of his robust legs, a sturdy torso, and a flick of his wrist, he swung his arm in the direction of the bricks.

In the span of a millisecond, a powerful flying slash, along with a strong gust of wind, shot from the blade, before the sound of crumbling rocks overcame the room.

Where the bricks had just been remained merely small particles of rubble, along with a pile of red dust, a smoky effect drifting in the surrounding air.

The room was silent, until Luffy suddenly yelled, arms over his head. "That was so cool!"

A small amount of applause, cheers, and whistles suddenly echoed, following Luffy's shout, particularly from the people seated on the sidelines, the non-competitors. Meanwhile, those who were competing watched in silent astonishment and seriousness, as they realized that this man could very well be their opponent.

Zoro was still in his stance, but soon enough stood up straight nonchalantly, until he was knocked forward by a heavy weight, also known as Luffy, as the man draped his arms over Zoro.

"Zoro! You're so awesome! We for sure _have _to spar now!" he screamed in Zoro's ear, making Zoro cringe and push him away gently.

"After what you just saw, I think I might already know who the winner's gonna be," Zoro mused with a cheeky grin, a sudden fondness over the dark-haired man subduing him.

"I felt like I was gonna die there for a moment," Usopp sniffed shakily beside them, his hand placed over his heart dramatically. "I don't know if I'm happy to be you guys' manager...or super unlucky."

"Just be glad I'm not your enemy," Zoro smirked at the long-nosed man, gratefully taking his jacket from him.

Usopp was in mid-response, until a voice cut him off.

"Very interesting," Doflamingo interrupted with a small cackle. "The both of you. I accept your invitation," he said with finality.

Zoro felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

A broad smile overcame his features instantly at the words as his body relaxed completely in relief as if he was about to fall.

He turned to face Luffy and saw they had matching smiles.

Both men raised their hands and gave one another, and even Usopp, a high-five, extremely happy they were able to enter the tournament.

After that, the try-outs continued as other contestants arrived, one by one presenting their abilities and strength in their own way.

The three men walked over to a corner of the room, away from where the audience was

mostly gathered, and continued to watch.

Luffy had calmed down quite a bit, but was still jumpy on his feet, pointing and hollering

in Usopp's ear about each contestant that he thought looked 'awesome.'

And there were some rather bizarre looking competitors, Zoro observed.

Men and women alike, different shapes and sizes. Some of them would be sliced in an instant if he were to go against them, he knew.

He gathered the noticeably strong ones in his mind, in no way doubting their strength.

His line of sight fell upon a younger-looking boy with pink hair and spectacles, standing in front of Doflamingo with a stiff and straight posture, almost like a soldier.

But it was obvious that he was afraid, beads of sweat on his forehead, and his mouth trembled as he spoke, that much was clear even from a distance.

Still, Zoro figured he must have some type of skill if he was offered an invitation. And though Zoro could predict the outcome-whether the boy would be his opponent or another's-he'd respect that skill, whatever it may be.

Behind the boy was another man who Zoro already concluded would be a worthy opponent. There stood a tanned man with long, thin limbs and fingers. He was towering and very muscular, head shaven.

Zoro was curious as to how this man would fight, as well as every other competitor.

Eyes flickering towards his swords case gripped in his hand, he couldn't wait for the moment to draw them out.

His eyes continued to roam the room, a figure, dressed in black, walking past him. But just like everyone else, he thought nothing of it.

* * *

_**7:23 p.m. Flower Hill Room**_

Try-outs done, Usopp stealthily led them away from the hidden arena, and back out onto the streets, thankfully less crowded now with nighttime approaching. He might've failed at controlling Luffy earlier, Zoro calling him a shitty manager at the time, but he seemed to have his tactics planned when it didn't involve much physical movement.

The trio walked together with Usopp leading the way back, to Zoro's relief.

The honking of cars had died down, and a quieter lull filled the locale, or at least as much as it could, considering the type of dangerous area they were currently walking through.

The words '_Flower Hill Room' _on a sign grabbed Zoro's attention as he realized it was a bar. And in that moment, he felt parched.

Stopping in his tracks, he called out to Usopp.

"Hey."

Usopp turned around, Luffy as well as they waited for him to tell them why he stopped.

"Before we go back, wanna grab a drink?" he suggested, motioning his head towards the small pub.

It was as though Usopp suddenly felt parched as well.

"Why not! Let's go," the long-nosed man agreed.

Zoro smirked with some relief, desperately needing a well-deserved drink.

The three men walked through the doors of the nearby decent bar and made their way towards the counter.

Zoro felt exceedingly reassured and rather… proud that he'd been able to make it into the competition. The feeling lingered as he sat on one of the stools.

Indeed, anyone who made it in was surely happy...

But to Zoro, it was different. It meant more to him than to any of the other competitors because he hadn't entered only for himself.

He'd entered for _Kuina. _The girl who had and still did mean more to him than anyone else.

She had been his close childhood friend, someone who'd helped him grow as a person and as a swordsman. They had shared one interest, but it was enough to make them the best of friends.

He remembered them loving to train together and _against _each other, Kuina winning each time, Zoro never given the chance to defeat her. She'd enjoyed teasing him about it, annoying him, but he'd never gotten angry.

And even despite his compliance, it had still been his goal at the time, to beat her.

He'd been shocked to see that she was so strikingly skilled at using a sword at the young age of twelve, it was almost unbelievable.

She had been older than him by just two years, but it seemed she was ten years ahead of him when using a sword.

Her father, Koshiro, had been one of the reasons why she was so adept, being a talented swordsman himself. But it was mostly due to the fact that she alone had wanted to be a powerful _swords-woman, _to defeat any man that were to cross her path, and that included Zoro.

He understood that passion, that desire,

to want to defeat someone else, to be the best.

She'd trained long before she'd even met Zoro.

She would often tell him of the sword she'd wanted the most, that would guide her to become a strong swords-woman.

It was the _Wado Ichimonji. _

It was a beautiful sword.

A sword with a white hilt, decorated with gold diamond patterns and a circular handguard, the sheath painted white with a straight blade.

Wado was one of the known twenty-one O Wazamono grade swords, each one very powerful and durable. They weren't the highest grade, but were, nonetheless, amazing swords.

He and Kuina hated the snotty rich man that had the sword at the time, Saint Charloss, who owned it for its history, but never used it.

He remembered that fact frustrating Kuina to no end, more than it did him. She had been capable enough to go and fight the man for it, but she never had, despite how much she'd wanted to.

Eventually, the man died and the sword was free for anyone who wanted it, and since then, it was sold and bought by countless people, never having a proper owner. Kuina was excited and vowed that when she grew older, she would stop at nothing to retrieve her desired Wado.

But that dream had been taken from her the day she died.

"Bartender! Two drinks for the gentleman and I."

Usopp's voice snapped Zoro out of his thoughts. He watched as Usopp slumped himself in one of the bar's stools, draping himself over the counter tiredly, his head facing away from Zoro.

After a brief minute, he turned towards Zoro, his cheek pressed against the counter. He seemed to be softly sobbing, making the green-haired man raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Thank you both for not killing me. Some guys I've been assigned to in the past have been so scary-looking, I was ready to quit my job," he explained, trembling slightly in fear at the memory.

Zoro merely looked at him, sort of perplexed, his drink midway to his mouth.

He chose not to answer the man and instead downed more of his booze, burning his throat in a satisfying way while Luffy spun on his stool, paying no attention to the man, lost in his own little world.

Usopp suddenly sat up straight, chest flared and arms flexed. His curly hair swayed a bit as he did so, and he smirked proudly.

p"That was a lie! For my name is Usopp, dammit! I'm tougher than any guy out there! I can even take you down, Zoro!" he yelled out with confidence./p

pZoro laughed this time and set down his glass./p

p"Are you willing to follow up on that statement? Because I'll take you on right now," Zoro threatened teasingly, his smile getting wider as he watched Usopp visibly stiffen up at his remark./p

p"Right now? You know what? I think I'm coming down with a cold," he said, suddenly changing his mood and letting out a fake hack, hitting his chest repeatedly./p

"Uh huh," Zoro hummed in amusement.

"Gimme something strong," Usopp told the passing bartender and slouched in his seat, hand on his chin.

"Another one for me," Zoro called out too, already craving another glass.

He wasn't planning on drinking too much that night; he didn't want to get drunk. He still planned to train for a bit; the night was still young.

He really wanted to meditate.

"Luffy, how long do you plan to spin in that chair?" Usopp asked, leaning back in his seat so that he could get a better look at said man from beside Zoro.

"Don't know. It's pretty fun though," Luffy laughed, his voice a little wobbly due to the spinning, but he nonetheless stopped his chair.

Setting the side of his hand down against the counter, Zoro swiftly caught the glass of booze the bartender sent his way and immediately took another large gulp.

"So, how the hell does a guy like you end up with this job anyway?" Zoro questioned Usopp, quite curious as to why a man that appeared to be afraid of seemingly countless things had ended up as a manager for frightening entrants.

Usopp paused at his question, setting down his drink and letting out a sigh.

"Well, it's kind of a funny story really."

He chuckled lightly and glanced at Zoro as he tapped his fingers against his cup, almost as if in embarrassment. His playful mood instantly changed to one that was more restless.

Zoro didn't laugh, only sent him an expression that read he was waiting for an answer.

Usopp slowly stopped chuckling and took a deep breath. His fingers stopped tapping the glass, but he then started dragging his index finger along the rim of it as he contemplated a response.

He looked straight ahead and decided to start his story without looking at his clients turned companions, considering they'd treated him differently than his previous clients, so far.

"Right, so as you guys have seen, I'm pretty scared of things that can kill me," Usopp began.

Zoro smiled just a little. He had definitely noticed. It was ridiculous, but just like with Luffy's wild antics, he didn't have a problem with it. He figured there had to be some reason behind it.

"I don't want to be though. You see, I want to be someone who's strong… and brave, without a care in the world. Basically, I want to be like you guys. Actually, I myself was going to sign up for the Battle Royale."

Usopp's words triggered a small wave of shock in Zoro. His eyes widened as he struggled to swallow his beer, the beverage getting lodged in his throat as he processed what he'd just heard. He recalled the pink-haired boy he had seen earlier in the arena, and mentally compared the two.

"Are you serious? You?" He laughed, his voice sounding a bit choked.

Usopp gave him a deadpan look and blinked once before saying, "Yes, I'm serious."

He let out another sigh.

"I know you're thinking that I'd die the minute I stepped into that arena, and so was I, which is why I didn't bother," he lamented with disappointment.

"Nah, man, I'm kidding," Zoro confirmed with a pat to Usopp's back.

The swordsman's smirk lingered for a moment before he sighed in the face of Usopp's apprehension.

"Look," Zoro started as he turned to look Usopp in the eye. "I didn't start out like this, being a swordsman. It's something I learned, something I trained and worked hard to be. If you want to do something, do it. Nothing's stopping you but yourself."

Zoro crossed his arms against the bar counter and sent him a hard look.

"Yeah, giving up on your dream's stupid," Luffy commented from beside Zoro, and unlike the swordsman, he gave Usopp another one of his widest grins, spinning himself once in his stool, as if in finality.

Usopp looked like he was about to burst into tears, but he didn't.

"You guys are right!" he shouted with a newfound brightness. He took one last large gulp of his drink, finishing it, and then slammed the glass on the counter, but not shattering it.

He stood and pulled on his black leather jacket with haste.

"I'm going to go grab a bite to eat, and then go and hit the gym for a while. Gotta bulk up these babies!" Usopp rambled as he pointed at his bicep.

After being almost completely quiet the whole time, Luffy suddenly perked up.

"You're gonna get food!?" he asked, also standing up. "Can I come with you? I'm starving!" Luffy moaned with a rub to his stomach and a distraught face.

"Yeah, sure! Zoro, you want to come too!?" Usopp questioned hurriedly. His body seemed fidgety, as if the excitement he was experiencing was being held back.

Zoro did enjoy a good work-out, but, with no offense to Usopp or Luffy, he preferred doing so alone. And after that drink, he really wanted to go back to his hotel room.

"Nah. I'm pretty beat from traveling and walking around this damn city, so I'm gonna call it a night," he said, rising from his stool and pulling out a couple of bills, placing them on the counter.

"Understandable." Usopp nodded, putting a hand on Zoro's shoulder. "Thanks for motivating me, man. I really needed it," he said, sounding on the verge of tears.

"_Let's go," _Luffy begged and tugged on Usopp's arm, huge frown on his face. "I'm _hungry." _

Zoro looked at the scene in front of him and pondered how odd the two men were, yet he didn't mind being around them. And for him, that said something.

Especially considering the fact that Usopp was currently trying to wrestle Luffy off of him, Luffy grabbing his nose and tugging, causing Usopp to screech.

Glancing up, Zoro caught the eyes of people nearby and only chuckled.

He really didn't mind.

* * *

_**7:00 p.m. Leaving the Battle Royale.**_

Flipping onto the next page of his journal, Sanji continued to scribble rapidly all he could remember seeing in the past hour. He did so with ease, averaging one-hundred words a minute, with neat handwriting at that, thanks to his years as a reporter.

He ignored the hand at the small of his back, gently guiding him towards the exit. He actually appreciated it, for once.

'_He was there!'_

Pressing the final period on his last sentence, he flipped his journal closed and clicked his pen before placing them both into the bag on his shoulder, excited smile present on his features.

"This way, Sanji," Gin said, raising his hand to motion Sanji away from the alley and back onto the street.

A few contestants remained inside the arena, resuming their training or hanging around, along with a few people from the audience.

Sanji also wanted to stay and continue watching, but Gin had suggested they leave a little earlier than a few of the others to avoid any sort of suspicion from the cops.

Sanji was reluctant to leave, but eventually agreed. He already had a lot to write about after watching the try-outs alone and wanted to do so while it was still fresh in his mind.

Meaning, he wanted to go back to his hotel room and properly jot everything down in order, and perhaps give a small update to Robin.

It was getting late, but knowing her, she'd still be glad to receive one.

Walking side by side with Gin, Sanji was eager to do all this, almost walking faster than Gin back to the car.

But Gin seemed to have something else planned.

"Pretty sick, right?" he commented coolly, unlocking his car and once again opening the door for the reporter.

"It definitely was," Sanji agreed, getting into the vehicle and clutching his bag to his chest. "Can't wait for the actual event to start."

He was in a good mood and actually didn't mind getting into a conversation with Gin in that moment.

The man let out a lively laugh as he circled to the other side and entered as well.

"Well, I can't wait to spend the next couple days with you to watch," Gin replied. "It'll be a hell of a time."

Peeking at him from the corner of his eye, Sanji only gave a strained smile and focused his gaze on the fuzzy dice instead, finding the comment a little annoying.

"Yeah…"

"The night's still young, y'know? So why don't I show you around the city, huh? It'll be a blast," Gin offered as he pulled away from the curb and drove off, in the opposite direction of Sanji's hotel.

Sanji's tolerance dropped in an instant.

His eyes widened as he turned fully towards Gin, lip twitching as he caught the smirk the man wore.

"M-Maybe another time! I have to go back and write-"

"Nonsense. You can do that tomorrow. Wouldn't kill ya to spend a night with your old buddy, would it?" Gin laughed once more, clearly not taking no for an answer.

_Yes, it would. _

But, Sanji knew he had to stay on this man's good side. Or else his ticket into the Battle Royale would be ripped right to shreds.

He let out a small laugh of his own, flipping his head and hair upwards to look out the window.

"I suppose not," the blond mumbled in reply.

"Perfect," Gin purred. "I know the finest burger place just a few blocks from here I'd be glad to take you to. Got a couple buddies there too that'll love to meet ya."

Sanji suddenly found the smell of cologne mixed with pine to be suffocating.

* * *

It turned out the finest burger place Gin knew was a mediocre joint at the corner of Primula Avenue.

In front was a statue of a fish, standing with a food tray balanced on his fin. But instead of food, there was an iridescent pearl that didn't even shine. Its paint was coming off in tiny scrapes.

Sanji stared at the dull eyes of the thing with disgust.

It was a burger place, and yet its mascot was a fish.

Opening the door to the joint, Gin hastily pushed Sanji inside and guided him to a four-seater table.

Sanji wasn't the type of person to eat out in the first place, much preferring to cook his own meals, the _right _way. But just the look of this place made him lose his appetite.

And from the looks of it, everyone else had too, since there was hardly anyone inside.

"Gonna call out my friends. Be right back," Gin said excitedly, pointing towards the back of the restaurant before jogging off in that direction.

Sanji merely nodded as he sat uncomfortably in his seat, taking a look around the inside of the restaurant.

The first thing he noticed were the purple fluorescent lights lining all four walls, giving the room a dark but vibrant feel.

Up against one wall, farthest to the right, were more lights, but these were the same color as the pearl outside, pink and blue, reading _Pearl Palace _in cubed font.

Surrounding the words were more lights that were formed in shapes-triangles, squares and circles-as they blinked on and off almost blindingly.

The chairs, including the one Sanji was sitting on, were supposed to be silver, but definitely weren't anymore, with rust decorating the edges of them. The red cushions attached were hardly comfortable.

But what Sanji couldn't _stand_ was the putrid smell of grease and oil filling the air. He could hear the sizzling coming from the back and glanced in that direction, where he also heard the boisterous laughs of what he assumed were Gin's so-called "friends."

He was agitated and wanted nothing more than to leave.

Maybe a cigarette.

But he instead restrained himself and placed his elbow on the table, tapping his lips impatiently.

Suddenly, the back kitchen door burst open, the laughter Sanji had heard becoming loud and clear as Gin and two men walked out, heading towards his table.

One was rather tall, as he loomed over Gin. He was muscular and had short purple-gray hair and long sideburns. He was dressed in a yellow leopard-print button-up, a gold chain around his neck.

The other was about the same height as Gin and, from what Sanji could tell, the owner of this place, as the man wore atop his head a hat in the shape of a pearl along with matching studs in his ears.

Despite the hat, his black hair peeked through, noticeably shiny from mousse.

Sanji had to bite back a groan.

But he managed to stand up, under some guise of politeness.

They approached, still laughing and making jokes, until Gin finally turned.

"Lads, this is Sanji, the one I was talking to you about. Sanji, this big one here is Krieg, and this fool is Pearl," he introduced, gesturing to the two men.

"So you're the famous Sanji!" Pearl chuckled, instantly slapping his hand against Sanji's back, making the blond tumble forward a bit.

Sanji forced a smile and stood back up.

"That's me," he said smoothly, jamming a thumb towards himself.

"We've heard so much about you! Gin just won't shut the hell up. Pleasure to meet you." Krieg smirked, voice rumbling as he shook Sanji's hand.

The blond let out a soft laugh and glanced at Gin, who gave a "Tch," in response.

"Only good things, I hope," Sanji replied.

The trio all laughed once again, the uncomfortable feeling that Sanji had returning full force as he watched them all carefully.

This would be a long night.

* * *

Sanji focused his gaze on the hamburger placed in front of him on a red plastic tray and wrinkled his nose. He didn't even need to take a bite to know that it would not suit his taste just from its appearance.

Wrinkled, smushed buns, the greenest lettuce and the stale, stiff slice of meat.

So, he pushed the tray slightly off to the side and leaned against the table where the three men he'd just met also sat, talking amongst themselves.

They'd insisted Sanji eat one of Pearl's burgers, despite his constant declining, and practically shoved the tray onto him. They then gathered around Sanji and Gin, collecting a couple beers. Every now and then, they would include Sanji into their conversation about who knew what.

"The last time I was with a woman was just a couple nights ago. So I'm still getting some action. Nothing's gonna change that," Pearl bragged with a sleazy smirk, blowing away the black curl that hung loosely over his forehead as if to finalize his statement.

Hearing this, Sanji quickly turned his head to face the three men, who weren't looking at him, giving him free opportunity to send a semi-pissed glare in their direction. He _prayed _they weren't going where he thought they were going with this conversation.

"Still got the looks. Can't say the same for this big lug over here," Pearl continued, sticking a finger towards Krieg, who was leaning back in his chair, expression unamused.

"Shut the hell up, you greasy bastard," he grumbled, sitting up straight again and taking a swig of his beer messily, drops of it falling down the side of his mouth. He slammed the glass down on the table and looked at his two friends.

Gin sat next to Sanji, but his chair seemed to inch closer with every passing moment, which Sanji clearly noticed.

The air felt tighter, the room much brighter. Sanji looked outside one of the tinted windows to see that it was definitely nighttime now, and his damn patience had lowered right along with the sun in the sky.

Cigarette-deprived, he fidgeted with the end of his shirt sleeve, buttoning and unbuttoning his cuff repeatedly.

"I been seeing this woman. Alvida's her name," Krieg slurred. "She's got the finest hips and legs that go on for days." He made a motion with his hands to reference an hourglass shape, making Sanji's eye twitch.

"And she's with _me. _So that's saying something, Pearl. You don't know jackshit about how to satisfy a woman," he taunted, swinging the gold chain around his neck in circles, toothy grin in place.

Pearl's face flushed red, apparently not knowing what to say.

"F-Fuck off! Course I do!" the owner eventually shot back. "If anyone doesn't know how to satisfy someone, it's Gin!" he stammered, everyone's eyes turning to Gin.

Elbow resting on the back of his chair in a somewhat cocky way, his other arm placed between his legs, position relaxed, Gin let out a small drunk cackle.

"You fellas don't know what the hell yer talking about." His voice was raspy, his eyes beady as he stared the two men down.

Sanji glanced at him from his peripheral, and that small movement caught Gin's full attention.

Quickly grabbing the back of Sanji's chair, he scooted it closer and pulled the blond directly into his side, arm draping over his shoulder for a squeeze.

"I know how to satisfy people really _fucking _good," the man drawled. "And if Sanji here gives me a chance…"

The blond's breath froze, and this time, not because of the man's cheap cologne. Instead, his entire world seemed to twist and hang on Gin's pause…

Until it came crashing down around him when the man leaned closer still to murmur in Sanji's ear, "_He might just be the star of the show."_

Those words sent a sharp shiver down the blond's entire body, a shiver that brought with it complete and utter dread and disgust.

Of course he'd known. He'd known Gin's feelings. He'd have to be fucking _blind_ not to notice the man's sorry attempts at flirtation.

Sanji had managed to control the situation always, tolerating, yes, but _controlling_, first and foremost. Gin could try all he wanted, but Sanji hadn't let the man advance, kept him at arm's length and made sure _he_ was the one calling the shots, even if that meant some subtle manipulation.

But he could do that quite easily, and he could do that without qualms when it kept the road paved for his goals without interference from this fool.

But there was a key difference in that moment, in Gin's low voice dripping so close to his skin, in his warm, alcohol-laden breaths that seemed eager to slide, if not more sleazy innuendos, than surely something _else_ down Sanji's throat.

The careful control that Sanji so valued-_needed-_in every situation, was slipping away from him as quickly as his companions' sobriety.

The moment he felt the first brush of lips against his neck, Sanji snapped.

Practically choking on the smell of that cologne, Gin's prickly stubble grazing his forehead, and tolerance long fucking gone, Sanji wrenched himself away and stood up.

"Don't touch me with your _filthy _hands! I've had enough of you," Sanji growled, wracked with a shiver.

"I'm walking back," he declared, catching a final glimpse of the two shocked men, along with his cold forgotten hamburger, before he stormed past them towards the front doors, the night air instantly a better feeling than the inside of that restaurant as soon as he stepped outside.

Sanji turned left then, speed-walking past the dumb fish outside the restaurant's entrance, down the street towards where he remembered the Battle Royale had been.

He'd go there, ask a nearby store for directions on how to get back to his hotel, and be on his way.

He had to get as far away as possible.

He was still trembling with rage and disgust as he reached over his shoulder into his bag, scrambling for his cigarette pack and lighter.

Feeling the familiar box and metal, he pulled them out and held the cigarette towards his lips.

But suddenly, a blur at his side, and his wrist was grabbed, turning him around forcibly to face the man he currently wanted to get away from.

His cigarette fell from his fingers, angering Sanji further.

Gin's short hair was tousled and he was panting, eyes pleading.

"Sanji," he said simply, holding onto the blond's wrist for dear life.

"Don't go. I'm sorry for what I did back there, honest. Come back and we'll-" Sanji cut him off.

"_No," _Sanji huffed, pulling his hand free. "I'm _tired_. I want to go back and _write, _dammit. But I can't do that with you in my way, so go back to your buddies and leave me _alone," _he seethed, nearly biting his tongue.

Gin looked frustrated, as if his life was hanging on a thread.

"That's fine!" he assured. "You can go do that, but we're still cool, right? Gonna see you again tomorrow night for the first Battle Royale round?" he asked desperately.

"I don't need it. I have my own way of getting in without you, so we're done here, Gin. Goodbye," Sanji finished resolutely with as much control as he could muster, stepping on the dropped cigarette and turning back away from him.

But, once again, Gin's wrist clamped onto his.

Only this time, the man dragged him. _Hard, _his grip forceful and insistent as he yanked Sanji between two shops and into a back alley, right next to a large dumpster.

A shove sent the blond's shoulders slamming into the wall, a grunt and a wince escaping him. Still, he found the strength, or perhaps the bravery, to glare at Gin's now pissed face with a scowl.

Gin roughly slipped a knee between Sanji's legs and held both of his wrists above his head with one hand, while his other flew south and grabbed Sanji's ass.

"I've _always _wanted to do that," he sneered lecherously, alcohol-stained breath fanning Sanji's face.

In a flash, Sanji lunged for him, seeing nothing but crimson.

* * *

_**8:07 p.m.**_

Waving goodbye, Zoro watched Luffy and Usopp walk away down the street before finally turning around to head back to his hotel.

He shoved one hand in his jacket pocket, his other securely holding his swords case.

Feeling the crumpled paper that was Nami's map in his pocket, he pulled it out to examine once more. Though he hated to admit it, he knew that without it, he'd be lost, perhaps for the entire night.

He stopped under a street lamp, which illuminated the paper perfectly, allowing him to find out that he wasn't that far from the Dressrosa Hotel, about three blocks or so.

He needed to just head straight until he reached Smiley Street and then make a left. Seemed simple enough.

Puffing out a breath of air, he continued to walk.

It was definitely strange being in a new city, but the first day was always tiring. He knew this, considering the many times he'd traveled as the "Demon of the East Blue."

But this day was definitely the strangest and most eventful. The train ride, the encounter with Luffy and then Usopp, the _rush _of the try-outs.

But despite all this, he wouldn't change anything about how the day had gone. And the days that were to come, no matter what, he knew he wouldn't change those either.

His jean jacket wasn't particularly the warmest thing, but it was enough so that he wasn't shivering. But it was becoming a chilly night, the November breeze running through the open seals of his jacket.

With each step, he wished he had his cassette player with him, listening to his various albums. He usually did bring it with him, but he supposed the Battle Royale had been the main thing on his mind.

To fill in his musical void, he flipped through his mind for songs to quietly hum to and thought of a recent favorite, 'You Shook Me All Night Long' by AC/DC.

He began to hum the song, recalling its exact beats and rhythms. And for a moment, he could swear he was actually hearing it, as a distant thudding filled his ears.

Stopping in the middle of the semi-crowded sidewalk, he paused to listen to make sure he wasn't crazy. But with the sounds of cars passing, people talking, and restaurant music, he was unable to. So, he moved away from the crowd just a bit and pressed himself against a laundromat's wall.

And he heard it.

Between the laundromat and restaurant, there was a long and narrow gap, where he was sure the sound was coming from. Except, it wasn't the sound of a song. He'd heard it many times before, in multiple fighting arenas.

Pained groans and spaced out thuds.

Curious, he examined the narrow gap and estimated that he could fit. He turned himself sideways, entered the opening, and began to slide himself, doing the same thing with his swords case.

Why he was doing this, he really didn't know. He just knew he wanted to find out who was at the end of it. If it was a Battle Royale competitor, he'd be fucked, because he wasn't supposed to get into fights or make any sort of enemy.

If Usopp was here…

But he continued anyway, even as his sneakers squelched in leaking sewer water and garbage, scrunching his nose in distaste at the smell and sound.

It felt like hours until he reached the end, but he finally did, peeking out slowly to find himself in a much larger alleyway behind some buildings. He glanced left and right, but the thudding had stopped, he realized.

Instead, it was replaced by the fresh scent of cigarette smoke.

The scent was strongest coming from his left, so Zoro walked in that direction.

And sure enough, behind a dumpster, he saw what appeared to be two figures, one standing while the other was slouched against the wall.

Not hesitating, Zoro approached them and upon closer inspection, he was able to make out the figure that was standing, who swiftly turned around to face him.

He was a tall, lean man, hunched a bit forward as he held a cigarette between his fingertips. He was dressed in a yellow striped shirt, now stained red here and there, with a couple of buttons missing from the top.

He had blond hair, which was disheveled, most likely from beating the shit out of the man before him. Glasses perched at the tip of his nose, another stain of blood smearing the one eyeglass that was shown.

And behind those glasses were blue eyes that stared at Zoro with the coldest stare, merciless and slightly hooded. Zoro held his gaze on the man, refusing to look away or make a move.

The blond did instead, as he stood up straight and took a drag from his cigarette, blowing out the smoke upwards. He didn't so much as glance at the body beside him, or brush away the bangs that were sticking to his sweaty face.

When he spoke, it surprised Zoro, the deep baritone stating nonchalantly, "I'm a news reporter. He wasn't giving me the information I needed."


End file.
